


Lessons in Life

by KoriatCyredanthem



Series: Love is a Battlefield [1]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Past Prostitution/Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 76,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6846565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoriatCyredanthem/pseuds/KoriatCyredanthem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The four turtles find two strange mutants in an alley - and there are more where these two came from. It will take patience and understanding to reconcile the groups' differences, and a major overhaul to the lair. On the plus side, healing the new members of the Hamato clan will take love of a kind the new family members have never seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Impressions

**Titania’s POV**

The concrete is cold beneath my cheek; it wakes me. I sit up, tucking my legs underneath me to warm up. The ache in my groin tells me that I was recently taken; not surprising. But finding myself thrown onto the streets _is_ surprising. Had Master tired of me? But then I would be dead, so unless this is some version of the afterlife, I am alive.

Lifting my hand to my throbbing forehead, I smell blood – not my own. I sniff under my claws; it’s lodged there. I lick my hand carefully, grooming down the fur, and then wash my face in case there is more blood there. My grey face fur is not stained badly, though my white hand fur is streaked a bit; a few passes does the trick. I wash the other hand, smelling and tasting a human’s blood under those claws as well.

 _I scratched a John_ , I think to myself, trying to piece together what might have happened. Master must have sent me to a room to entertain a guest; I must have fought him, for some reason. Oberon would have rescued the John and shaken me; that is why I feel bruised. Usually, however, I would have woken in my cage after such an incident; I had done it often before realizing the futility.

 _What’s different now?_ I ask myself as I lean over to wash my side, gently nibbling the fur where a few scratches have bloodied the strands of hair and matted them. My own blood is a familiar taste; I cough out some hairs and spit them to the side.

“You okay?”

Oberon’s voice makes my fur stand on end and I arch my back, hissing automatically, ears flattened to my head. I take a deep breath and find him crouched in the shadows, his shaggy, matted brown fur blending into the darkness. He’s almost twice my size and used to scare me.

“Fine,” I answer shortly, curling my tail around my legs and smoothing down my fur with both hands.

Oberon tilts his head slightly. He’s not the brightest – Master bred him for loyalty and guardianship, not for intelligence. I, however, was bred to be pleasing, including in conversation. The very tip of my tail ticks back and forth; I don’t mind.

Oberon waves his docked tail once, indicating his pleasure than I am alright. This is confusing; usually he stays away from my sisters and I unless he had to subdue one of us or was permitted some pleasure of our bodies by Master. My confusion is evident and he cocks his head to one side, short ears perked stiffly up.

“Don’t you remem- remember?” he asks, long tongue tripping his words up. He doesn’t speak much and his tongue gets in his way.

“Remember what?” I ask stiffly.

“We es-thaped. You showed me.” His long tongue licks up drool from his chops; I shudder at the saliva, remembering it falling onto my back fur when he took me in front of our Master for his amusement. It had taken hours to feel moderately clean again.

I think back, nodding blankly to myself. Oberon and I had been talking about escaping; using my wit, charms, and amble physical pleasures, I had seduced him into league with me and my sisters. But looking around, I could not find them with us.

“What about Hermia, Hippolyta, and Aemilia?” I ask sharply.

Oberon whines and lowers his head submissively, mouth opening in a placating gesture. I put back my ears and hiss, demanding an answer. “They were locked up and we didn’t have time,” he responds slowly, ears flattened in defensiveness and deference.

“We have to go back for them.” I stand, coiling my tail around one ankle so that it resembles an anklet, its white tip still ticking maddeningly. I still it consciously.

Oberon stands, keeping his head lowered to protect his throat as if I was going to attack him. He nervously licks his nose, indicating his wish to apologize and to repair our relationship. “We can’t, we’d die,” he says quietly.

I bare my fangs, tail raising and ears pinned back, showing my anger in voice and body. “They’re my sisters. We’re going back.”

Oberon whines again, tucking his tail down between his legs. It’s too short to really do anything, but the gesture is all that matters. He knows I am the boss around here, but he still doesn’t like the idea.

I take a moment to smooth down my front fur, briskly wiping more of my own blood from my middle left breast. The cut there is shallow; now that I inspect it, I realize it is too clean a cut to have come from Oberon’s sharp dog claws. My own perfectly manicured cat claws, however, could have done it.

Looking around, I realize I have no idea where we are. In an alley, yes; but where?

**Leo’s POV**

My brothers and I run through the crisp air. There’s a chill to it that means fall isn’t far off and we’ll soon have to make shorter and shorter runs, despite the longer nights. We freeze, otherwise, and can even slip into pre-hibernation cycles, though no one has yet fully hibernated. With the Foot defeated, however, there is not much work to be done anyway. We put down the occasional gang event or single robber up to no good; more and more often, we would explore the city as we never had before.

Some nights, we watch movies at the theater from the rafters and snag huge, greasy garbage bags of popcorn from the trash after the theater closed for the night, stashing them on the rooftop to eat over the next week or so. Mikey always manages to put away more than his share of it than anyone else; I suspect he is building a layer of fat as a result. I should up his training.

Once, we had found a wandering child and dropped her off in front of the nearest police station. She had told the officers about the guardian angels who had saved her – though they explained that angels were humans with wings, not bipedal turtles with brightly colored masks. Mikey still occasionally calls me “Weo.”

Sometimes we find someone in need of help that we can provide. Taken from the bodies of gang members, drug lords, and the occasional robber, a bit of money might find itself into a single mother’s purse one night. It might show up in a homeless man’s cup when he wakes the next morning. After an earthquake made several neighborhoods in our side of town fall down, we had spent many nights repairing walls, roofs, furniture, and appliances; Don worked on the latter while Mikey, Raph, and I worked on the former. Doing such good deeds made us all happy, even if Raph sometimes grumped about spending all night waiting for Don to finish patching this and that.

A strange scent catches my attention and I slow, jogging towards an alley to follow it. My brothers catch the same scent and follow. Raph sniffs several times and sneezes the air back out, shaking his head. “Does that smell like a cat to anyone else?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah, but… different,” Mikey agrees. “Like… Spicy? Is that a scent?”

“I think it’s a taste,” Don replies.

“Don’t you taste with your nose anyway?” Mike sniffs again. “Cinnamon. It smells like cinnamon candies.”

Don raises an eyeridge and rolls his eyes. “Your nose helps with taste, Mike, but taste buds are located on your tongue. You could eat an onion and think it was an apple if your nose was plugged.”

“I wanna try that,” the youngest exclaims.

“Concentrate,” I scold, peering into the alleyway from which the scent comes. Another scent, harder to detect, is woven in with it; this one is of dirt, unwashed hair, and, faintly, blood. I dislike the smell but it’s unmistakable.

“Hello?” Mike calls down into the alleyway.

Raph smacks him upside the head. “Warn ‘em, why don’tcha?” he growls. I shake my head, too, and jump down into the alley to investigate.

There’s a low growl from my left and something big, furred, and heavy hits me in the side. I grab the first thing I can – one of its limbs – as my shell whacks into a dumpster. The creature barks, much like a dog; I bring my fist down into its body and it yelps.

“Leo!” Raph snarls and jumps down, grabbing the animal and pulling it off by the fur; the creature whines in pain and wiggles, trying to get loose. I stand up; my shell hurts a little but it’s only a bruise. Raph is holding it down firmly; though it’s bigger than him, he’s stronger.

Don and Mike had followed Raph and are standing next to me as we try to see what Raph is holding. It’s twisting too fast for a good look, but it’s definitely got thick, matted fur, a bobbed tail, four limbs, and claws. I can feel a scratch on my plastron from the attack; it’s not very deep.

“Oberon, down!” a female voice hisses from the shadows. The creature stops moving and lets Raph force him onto the concrete, whining in pain. Raph releases it and rejoins us; the being sorts itself out until it is crouched on four legs, thick fur obscuring its face, which I assume is on the end facing us. Its tail is erect and stiff, only three inches long at the most. It shakes out its fur, growling under its breath; it rears onto its back paws, balancing on two legs like a human, and all three of us facing it gasp simultaneously.

The creature has short brown fur around its human-like face with a protruding jaw, lips thrust forward into a half-muzzle. His lips are pulled back, revealing sharp canines and a pair of short fangs. His brown eyes are wary and untrusting and his nose is mostly human-looking, though darker than the rest of his face. His belly fur is longer than the fur on his face and arms, shaggy and matted with dirt, leaves, and mud. His arms are to his side by his elbows are bent, ready to grab anything that comes for him. Standing, he is almost a foot taller than Raph and me. He is most certainly male; the fur thins around his privates, revealing a dog-like sheathed penis. He’s completely naked and I unconsciously tuck my tail up tighter to make sure I am not revealed.

Another creature steps up to his left and this one, too, shocks us all. She – her six small breasts down her belly mark her as female – has mostly grey fur, though it is carefully groomed and gleams in the soft light coming from a street lamp at the entry to the alley. Her fur is white around her mouth and down her neck until just between her first pair of breasts, on her hands, and down her hind legs on which she balances primly. Her left leg is white-furred half-way up the thigh; her right is only white to the knee. The fur is standing on end from either fear or anger. Around her mouth and nose are longer white whiskers. Her ears stand erect on the top of her head, surrounded by the longest hair on her body. The tips of her ears barely reach the dog-man’s chest; she’s probably around five feet tall. Her eyes are a piercing yellow with slit pupils. She reminds me of a cat as she sniffs at us, long tail swaying side to side behind her and the white tip of it ticking quickly.

“Um… Wow…” Mike whistles. His eyes are stuck on the cat-lady’s breasts; she bares her fangs at him, ears flattening.

“Mikey, manners!” Don snaps, cuffing the youngest; he’s blushing terribly himself and can’t seem to look up from the pavement.

“Hi,” I say, keeping my gaze carefully on the cat-woman’s eyes. She meets my eyes and lowers her lips over her fangs, though her ears are still pinned back. “I’m Leo.”

She looks me over coolly, gaze lingering on my weapons and mask. The dog-man next to her slowly lets his ears rise from their flattened position, though he keeps a careful eye on Raph. Like Mike, the hothead is ogling the cat-woman.

“I am Titania,” the cat-woman finally replies, meeting my eyes again. Her gaze is fierce, challenging. She gestures quickly to her companion. “This is Oberon.” Her voice is cultured and has a faint English accent, with a husky undertone that some part of me really likes. I can tell it has the same effect on my brothers; even Don glances up at the sound of her voice.

“These are my brothers. Raph, Don, and Mike. It’s nice to meet you,” I say politely. I offer my hand, keeping my movements slow. I would hate to have the dog-man bite me.

Titania looks at my hand for a moment, then back in my eyes, and finally reaches out just as slowly. Her hand is warm and soft; the fur feels like velvet as I gently close my hand around hers and shake it carefully. She flexes her hand and claws emerge from the fur of her fingertips, but they rest on my wrist without scratching. We both withdraw our hands slowly.

“If you don’t mind my asking…” Don interrupts, blushing when the cat-woman looks at him and firmly staring at the ground still, “what are you?”

She looks at him as if he is simple, though he misses the expression since the concrete between his toes seems so fascinating. Mikey is still staring at the woman’s breasts despite the earlier warning. “I am a pleasurer,” she responds finally, one ear softening. Her tail slows down its waving, though the end is still ticking away rapidly. After a moment, Titania winds the tip of her tail around her ankle. “Oberon is my… guardian.” With a goofy grin, Oberon opens his mouth and a long tongue slips out, wagging and slobbering against his chin. His tail has relaxed down and his ears are erect, interested. He seems friendly, apparently forgetting that he had attacked me moments ago.

I glance at Raph, who looks at me and raises an eyeridge expressively. His arms are crossed and he is glowering at the dog, though stealing appreciative glances at the cat-woman. I can’t really blame him; she is sexy on a level none of us have seen before. And she isn’t screaming and running away, which makes even the sexiest human rather hard to appreciate.

**Oberon’s POV**

Titania’s tail slows down and I relax, grinning. I’ve never met a turtle before; now I’m meeting four. They smell weird, weirder than humans. And they’re a little taller than Hermia; the two tallest are about one of Master’s feet shorter than me. They’re all wearing things – brown cloth around their waists, knees, and elbows.

The blue one, Leo, seems to be the leader. He has two things sticking up from his back; they look like metal wrapped in leather. I like chewing leather. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but his hide is some medium shade of green, like grass, and his chest is dark yellow, like pee. I like grass. He smells like mint and green tea, which Master's youngest daughter likes to drink. She used to think I was a good boy until Master took me away from her so he could make me into what I am now. I don’t know where she is; I wish she would scratch my belly again, making my leg thump. That was back when I walked on all fours.

The red one, Raph, he was the one who grabbed me. It had hurt and I had tried to bite him, but his hands had been on my scruffy upper back fur and there hadn’t been much I could do to get at him. Still, I was supposed to protect Titania, so I had tried, I really had. He’s got metal things in his belt, two of them; they look like weird forks. I’m hungry; I wonder if they have food and will share. His skin is darker than Leo’s but his hard chest part is lighter yellow, like Titania’s eyes. He smells like human sweat and oil, or grease, or something mechanical. I sniff in his direction but I can’t figure out what that smell reminds me of.

Mike is watching Titania as though she is working the pole. His eyes follow first her upper breasts, then her middle, then her lower – and then back up. His grin is nearly as goofy as mine, but he isn’t drooling. His skin is lighter green than the other three; his front is a dark yellow, almost brownish. He smells like that green soap Master likes. I like the wood things stuck in his belt. I wonder if he’ll let me chew on them. Maybe if I’m a really good boy.

The last, Don, is staring at the ground. I wonder what’s so interesting about it and try to look where his eyes are pointed. It only looks like regular concrete. Sometimes I don’t understand things, but that’s okay. I’m sure he’s looking at something important. He’s got a long wood stick on his back; maybe I can chew that. He’s not paying much attention; maybe I can take it. But Master taught me to ask before taking things to chew, so I won’t take it. His skin is like the grass in my pee spot, yellow-green, and his front is yellow like the metal some guests wear on their fingers or around their wrists. He smells like coffee. I like coffee. Master sometimes lets me have some in my treat bowl in the morning, especially if we had a lot of johns through the night before. I like it with cream, which sometimes Titania will give me if I beg nicely.

Titania is really nice to me. I love Master, I really do. But I really like Titania, too. When she had started talking about leaving, I had whined. I like the way Master would pat my head when I had been a good boy. I like it when he lets me have one of the cats for being a good boy. But she has shown me that he isn’t always nice to me, especially when I am a bad boy. Sometimes, I make him mad, and her kicks or hits me and makes me walk around awkwardly on my hands and legs like I had before he had taken me away from his daughter. If I am a really bad boy, he puts a sharp collar around my neck and leaves me in a tiny room without food or water. Even my loudest howls and whining and begging are ignored when I am a very bad boy.

But Titania has never hurt me. I know that she had obeyed Master and only let me have her because he told her to. But she had made it nice. She told me I was a good boy, had let me chew up a wonderful bone filled with delicious treats. She always has something for me when I take her to her room – cream, a treat, a piece of wood to work on. We can’t play fetch in her small room where she works, but she rubs my tummy. And even when Master didn’t tell her to, sometimes she makes me feel very happy and let me take her.

The only thing I don’t like is bath time. I always know when it is coming, too; Titania’s nose would be crinkled whenever around me. She would take me to the bathroom. I don’t like getting washed, unless I’m drooling. Or maybe if I’m really thirsty and splash a little when drinking. Or if it’s very hot and Master lets me stand in the sprinklers on the grass. But she keeps telling me how good a boy I am, so I let her wash me and comb my fur even though the tugging hurts and I smell like her for days afterwards. Master doesn’t mind when she cleans me, but he also doesn’t mind when I’m not clean. If something bugs me and I scratch it too much, he’ll cut off the patch of fur; otherwise, we don’t really care.

I wonder if Titania likes the smells on the turtles as much as I do. She walks towards the leader and I wait. She always does things her own way, in her own time; only Master can make her hurry up. She calls the turtles “terra pins,” but I don’t think they’re like the white things Master sometimes knocks down with a big heavy ball. I can’t chew on those, either, and the ball is too heavy and big to play fetch with. Not that I want to chew on the turtles. But maybe they have guard dogs where they work and carry those sticks for us.

**Mike’s POV**

God _damn_ , this chick is hot! She’s a little thinner than I like; some good food would plump her – and her breasts – right up. I like a chick with meat on her bones. Maybe she likes post-closing popcorn. God knows we can find enough of that deliciousness.

Leo glances at me as if he can read my mind; I grin sheepishly. I can’t help it! I’m a young man! I have needs! I can just imagine he’s mentally preparing a lecture for me, too. I just couldn’t help it. Who knew six breasts were better than two, even if they are almost flat? My tail is tucked firmly up, though; despite this chick’s beauty, there’s still a huge question here.

Who is she? Where did she come from? What do we do with her – and her dog-man pal?

Okay, maybe there’s more than one question here. I’m sure Don has about a thousand of them already, and he’s been staring at the concrete like a lunatic. We don’t often get to see beautiful women – or mutant women, take your pick. Enjoy it when it happens, bro!

Besides, she didn’t seem to mind my appreciation. And it isn’t ogling, Leo, it’s appreciation! Like a fine art! No one stares at the ground in front of the Mona Lisa.

I bet her fur is _really_ soft. Leo already got to touch it, lucky bastard. I want to shake her hand, too. And maybe rub her head; the fur there is longer and thicker. I wonder if she’d let me. My puppy dog eyes work on Leo, after all.

**Leo’s POV**

“I did not know Master had made terrapin guards as well,” the cat-woman says quietly. She steps primly forward, moving gracefully. Her hips sway in a mesmerizing manner but I focus my full attention on her face as she approaches me. I hold still as she reaches forward and touches my plastron. I can faintly feel her index finger’s claw tap against it.

“What Master?” Don asks curiously. He finally looks up, cheeks still dark green.

The cat-woman ignores his question and slides her hand around my plastron, feeling where it connects to my skin at my neck. She examines the junction between plates at my stomach. Her hand starts to slide lower and I quickly step back, uncomfortable. She bares her teeth in a mocking grin, yellow eyes amused. Oberon is still panting happily behind her.

Titania picks up my right hand and runs the pads of her hand over my hide; it is pebbly and hard, a sharp contrast to her soft fur and skin. She examines my blunt fingernails – I keep them clipped and rounded – and then wiggles my thumb in its socket. Don watches her examine me with a curious look on his face.

Without apparent modesty, she reaches up and pulls my head down to looks intently into my eyes. I let her, though her scent is quite powerful at such close quarters. I agree with Mikey; she smells like cinnamon candy, but underneath it is a weird scent that reminds me of musty warehouses and run-down homes.

Titania pulls my upper lip away from my teeth, raising an eyebrow at my thick, blunt teeth. I pull my head back, licking my teeth and wiggling my lips back over them. She walks around behind me; when I turn to follow, she stills me with a hand on my elbow and examines my shell. The cat-woman raps on it with her knuckles and then bends down to sniff it closely, looking closely at several scars on it.

“Hey!” I yelp when she tries to grab my tail, her hand brushing the lower lip of my shell. I jump away and spin to face her again. Oberon’s friendly pant stops and his shoulder fur begins rising again. Titania stills him with a glance and his fur smooths back out.


	2. Back to Our Place

**Titania’s POV**

The terrapin is certainly intriguing. The similarities in conformity seem to indicate that all four were created by the same formula, from the same base strain. I suspect they came from red-eared sliders; they are common pets, easy to acquire. I, of course, am a pure-bred British Shorthair. Sometimes I wish Master had created me from a Persian or Ragamuffin, though. Their fur is sleeker and I wouldn’t really mind the extra grooming. I even wash Oberon when he reeks too badly to hide behind polite coughs.

They seem to be sensitive of their genitals, however. I smile at the turtle gently, rumbling softly in a way that pleases most Johns I take care of. It’s almost like purring – though of course I won’t do that. That is special, something I pretend not to be able to do. It seems to soothe his ruffled feathers, so to speak; he looks more confused than mad.

Perhaps, if these guards work in a base not devoted to sexual fantasies, I will request a transfer. Their Master will likely only beat me a bit, perhaps give me to his human guards for a while; I have survived worse. Especially if I bring Oberon with me, who is bigger and better-bred than these terrapins. Master has noticed how I have been seducing his guard pet away, but he cannot compare petting and all the “good boy” words in the world to what I can do. Oberon is wrapped around my little finger and I alone control his puppet strings.

First, though, I need to see these turtles’ base, meet their Master, and explain my intentions. I am sure I can charm him. I have yet to meet a human I cannot turn to my side, woman, man, eunuch, or any of those confusing gender terms that have seemed to multiply in recent years.

**Leo’s POV**

“Master did not tell me of your existence,” Titania says, ignoring my confusion as I securely tuck my tail down again. “Where is your base?”

I glance at Raph; while my jump amused him, he’s just as confused by the question as I am. Don and Mikey can’t offer any insight, either, when I glance at them; Don shrugs and Mikey grins foolishly. She can’t possibly mean Splinter; the inflection in her tone indicates that “Master” is a name, not a title. Besides, our father and sensei would have told us about other mutants… And definitely wouldn’t let them wander around naked. _At least,_ I correct myself, suddenly conscious of my own nakedness, _not if we had visible bits._

“Very well, then, where are we?” she asks, annoyance in her voice as we remain silent and unable to answer her first question.

“Uh… New York?” Mikey offers, grinning sheepishly. He meets her eyes, having ogled his fill of her breasts. I will have to remind him of his manners when we have figured out what to do with these two mutants.

She levels a damning look of contempt at him and he physically flinches from the strength of it, grin fading fast. “Clearly,” she replies. “I should hope you can provide more precise coordinates than that.”

“That’s Greenpoint,” Raph replies gruffly, gesturing at the street to the south. “An’ it meets Van Dam three blocks that way.” He points west.

**Raph’s POV**

That dog-man, Oberon, is literally drooling slobber down his chin and chest as Titania speaks to us. He doesn’t look particularly bright, but at least he isn’t trying to bite anyone. I have to ask Don if we’re susceptible to rabies; there are some scratches on my legs and plastron from the dog-man’s struggling.

But I’m trying to keep an eye on him – and his canines – while still appreciating that sexy-as-all-get-out cat-woman. I’m not really a breast man, though there are three times as many on this gal than on your average human. I’m more into hips, and _goddamn_ are hers gorgeous. Her waist is a little thin; I could probably wrap my hands around it and almost touch my fingers. Not that that is necessarily a bad thing, but judging from her ribs and flatter breasts, she needs a bit of feeding.

Both of them do, really. Oberon’s ribs stick out even more prominently, though it’s hard to tell under his thick, matted fur. I can tell why it’s matted; he’s drooling enough into it to make it very dirty. While Titania seems to take grooming herself seriously, this dog-man doesn’t seem to pay much attention to how he looks. He idly scratches at one ear and then roughly shakes his head, ears flapping. I feel some spittle land on my arm and quickly wipe it away with a grimace.

**Don’s POV**

Both cat-woman and dog-man startle me as much as they do my brothers, but I cannot help my… natural instincts. Being raised around human TV and magazines and books, of course my brothers and I know what the perfect feminine form is believed to be. And this cat-woman comes very, very close – perhaps even surpassing my most intimate fantasies in some ways. I know Mike had been checking out her breasts this entire time; Raph has his eyes darting between her posterior and Oberon, trying to decide whether to keep an eye on the threat or on the hottest creature we’ve ever seen. I think Leo has more control over himself.

I, myself, am unapologetically attracted to hair. And this woman has a lot of it, and it looks absolutely gorgeous. Not that she doesn’t, herself, but her fur is really, really… sexy. She obviously takes very good care of it, too, which is more than I can say for Oberon.

Of course, the scientist in me is wondering how these two came to be mutated. I want their life story – and DNA samples – and I want to have long talks with Titania. Oberon hasn’t yet spoken, so I’m not sure if he is mute or what. His tongue is very slobbery, but his eyes are kind and friendly – now that we’ve gotten the introduction done.

I glance at Leo. “How about we get you somewhere safe. Are you hungry?” I ask, glancing at the thin mutants’ ribs.

Titania smiles at me, and her teeth are beautiful. They are more rounded than I would have expected; either filed down or influenced by her human genetics. Her eyes are a brilliant yellow with flecks of brown; I feel like I could drown in them. I think that’s what I feel, anyway; that’s what I’ve read when people meet someone’s eyes and feel like they’re lost.

“Food,” Oberon pants happily, licking his chops. Well, he can apparently speak. Perhaps not as well as Titania; his tongue flops around a little awkwardly for conversation.

“We would appreciate that,” Titania adds, all grace. Master Splinter always taught us to be kind and courteous to women – at least until they prove themselves a threat, like Karai had before she fled to Japan. So I bow and offer her my arm. Despite my ninjutsu training, she makes me feel awkward and clumsy.

Titania looks a little surprised and glances down at my arm; then she smiles again, resting her palm on my forearm. Her fur is really soft; underneath the grey strands is a healthy pale pink skin. I can’t even see any scars, making me conscious of my own and my brothers’.

“Oberon, come,” she orders softly. The dog-man nods in agreement, woofing quietly. His stubby little tail looks like it’s wagging. I help Titania up the ladder to the roof and she looks around as if she has never seen such a sight. Her careful mask slips and I can see the wonder and delight in her features before she catches me watching her and shutters her eyes, smiling languidly.

“Come on.” Leo leads the way towards the lair. We go slowly, over an easy route; it’s quite clear that these two are not used to jumping across streets and alleyways from several stories up. They also don’t have a lot of stamina; both are panting within minutes. Noticing their difficulty, Leo slows to a sedate walk for a while. I distract Titania by pointing out famous landmarks, parks, and shops. She listens to me chatter inanely with patience and polite attention, but I feel as though it is a trained habit. I want to see the person behind her polite mask again.

**Mike’s POV**

Since Don snagged the chick (dammit!), I decide to hang out with the dude. I help him make the jumps and make sure he keeps up. His heavy fur smells, and he pants heavily, splattering drool on me if I get too close. But he lets me talk at him and is either listening or isn’t; I don’t really care either way.

We’re behind Donnie and Titania, which means I have an excellent view of her rear as she jogs and then walks. The way her hips swell when she tenses for a jump is mesmerizing. Her tail remains tucked against her ankle, but I imagine reaching out and pulling it… just for fun.

We come to a sewer entrance and leap down into the alley. Don, Titania, and Oberon follow on the fire escapes. Titania has some trouble with her back paws; they resemble cat paws more than her hands do. Don, lucky bastard, gets to climb down in front of her and reach up to place her feet. I can tell he likes the feeling of her fur. He’s always been a little crazy about hair. I think it’s because we don’t have any.

Once we’re down, Leo and Raph pull up the sewer entrance. I catch surprise and disgust flash through Titania’s face, but I blink and it’s gone. Maybe I imagined it.

Oberon looks down the ladder and whines quietly; I pat him comfortingly. “It’s not far,” I tell him with a quick grin.

“We are not… fond… of the dark,” Titania explains patiently. She smiles at me and her eyes are beautiful and I forget what I was going to say next. I don’t even _think_ of teasing them like I would Raph or Leo or Donnie.

Raph, already in the sewers, clicks on his flashlight upon hearing her. Now she can see the ladder and allows Donnie to guide her onto it. This time, Raph gets to be the lucky turtle who positions her feet and steadies her when she steps down onto the maintenance walk that runs along this particular tunnel. Don hurries down after her, probably afraid our macho brother will steal her attention. That leaves me with Oberon, who is still whining under his breath.

“I wait here?” Oberon asks. I think he’s asking me until I notice that he’s looking down the hole. Titania answers briskly.

“Nonsense. We would be poor guests to spurn our hosts’ offer of hospitality.” Most of those words go over his head. “Come.”

Oberon whines and paces back and forth once at the edge of the hole. Then he seems to make up his mind and jumps down.

**Raph’s POV**

The dog-man is acting like a wuss, but I actually don’t mind since Titania is standing next to me, staying close to the source of light, while she speaks to him. My eyes are glued to her so I don’t notice our danger until the big doof lands on us, knocking all three of us into the sewer water.

I surface with a sputter, fishing the flashlight out of the stream by feel. Oberon barks in surprise – and not in the human way, I mean a real, dog “woof!” sound. He hops out and Leo and Don sprint for cover as he shakes his entire frame. Mud, water, and other things fly from his fur, hitting me and… Titania.

The cat-woman looks shocked, disgusted, and tormented. She is still sitting in the sewage and looks ready to cry. She ignores the dog-man, not even snapping at him, and looks at her arms. Her grey fur is mucky and stained.

“Here,” I offer gruffly. I put my arms under hers and lift her to her feet – she’s tiny and very light. She’s trembling so I keep my hand on her sides, just to steady her, of course.

I walk her out of the water and hand her up to Don, who pulls her onto a dry piece of pavement. Her fur drips water and other unmentionables from head to toe. Oberon looks ashamed; his head is down, tail flattened, ears hanging straight down his head. He’s drawn into himself as though afraid of backlash.

Titania is silent for a minute and then seems to gather herself. She shivers, shaking more water lose without soaking anyone else, unlike Oberon’s enthusiastic shaking had earlier. Then she raises one hand and starts to lick her fur.

“Don’t do that!” Don yelps, grabbing her hand and pulling it away.

Titania stares at him; it’s the second most open expression I’ve seen from her. Her face hardens. “I am cleaning myself, _Don_. May we rest a moment? I refuse to continue while covered in… this.” She looks absolutely disgusted.

“We’ll get you a shower back home,” Leo promises. He’s also turned on his flashlight; it highlights the filth in her fur when he shines it at her. “But that water is dangerous and germy.”

She seems very surprised. “Showers are for humans,” she says gently as though breaking bad news to someone. All four of us – Mike has descended the ladder finally, replacing the manhole cover – stare at her in shock. Noticing our looks, her eyes narrow. “Your Master allows you showers?”

“Well… yeah…” Don replies, stammering a little.

She suddenly nods as though realizing something. “Of course. You are aquatic creatures; you have no natural method of grooming. My fur requires only my attention, however.” She looks like she’s going to lick herself again; Don keeps hold of her hand to stop her.

“You’ll get sick,” he tells her seriously. “We’ll get you a shower when we get home.”

Her ears go back and she looks angry. “I will not suffer this filth in my fur,” she states importantly.

“Yer gonna have to,” I tell her, trying to support Don. She spins her head around and fixes me with a glare. _Damn_ , is it sexy. I grin back and her eyes narrow.

“We’re very close,” Don continues. He takes a step away, still holding her hand; she has to follow or fall over. “I’m sure Master Splinter will let you have some of his soap.”

**Titania’s POV**

I reek. I have never reeked in my life. My fur stands on end no matter how often I smooth it with my hand; Don is clutching my other. I shudder continuously. _Things_ fall off me. I can’t make my tail curl around my ankle like usual; it has puffed up and sticks straight out from my posterior. Oberon is following me, head down. He knows he is a _very bad boy_ right now.

Don keeps pulling me forward and I have to follow. I will not fall over again; I watch my steps carefully. Raph, despite his gruff exterior, keeps the light just in front of my feet so I can see where we are going. Despite my origin as a cat, my eyesight is closer to a human’s, a fact that Master makes use of occasionally.

I am also not looking forward to a shower. I have only been forced into water once in my mutated life and I refuse to go quietly. My fur will _not_ be scrubbed like a bad dog’s. As soon as we have reached their base of operations, I shall find a corner or room and clean myself. It will take hours until I feel fresh again, and it will be days before the smell is gone. I cannot work like this; any John will flee at the stink, even as nose dead as humans are.

I glare over my shoulder at Oberon, who whines and licks his nose several times. I flatten my ears; I do _not_ forgive him.

Leo, in the lead, stops at a blank wall and pushes in a brick. I am about to consider if he is crazy – if they all are – when the wall recedes and opens down the middle. A warm breath of air, smelling of incense, metal, and faintly like Master’s green soap, rushes out to greet us.

**Mike’s POV**

Ah, home, sweet, home. I’m glad to get out of the stink of the sewer. I feel really bad for Oberon and Titania. The dudette is clearly disgusted and unhappy; Don is keeping hold of her hand (lucky!). Oberon looks like a dog expecting to be kicked; his head is down, tail limp, ears flattened in submission.

I glance back out of instinct, making sure we didn’t leave anything behind. Coast is clear. I close the door behind us and notice Master Splinter coming out of his room. He’s got great hearing.

Looking at Titania, I suddenly realize something.

She’s a cat. Our esteemed, _elderly_ father is a rat who doesn’t even like tiny Klunk.

They’re natural enemies.

As soon as I think it, I can see the same thought hit my brothers; Don’s grip on Titania tightens and Raph looks ready to jump her – and not in the sexy way – if she pounces. Leo moves towards Master Splinter, revealing our kitty in the process.

Titania looks up and spots our father.

**Leo’s POV**

I realize that we may have just stepped into the lion’s den, no pun intended. Master Splinter is walking towards us; he’s looking at me but he smells something he doesn’t like because his grip on his cane is firm and his fur is puffy, nose twitching.

 _Oh, shell_. I move to intercept him. Unfortunately, I don’t realize that this exposes Titania, who despite being covered in sewer sludge, is unmistakably a _cat_.

Master Splinter’s nose stills and his eyes go wide. I _think_ he squeaks.

**Don’s POV**

I’ve got a good grip on Titania, but her fur is slick and wet. I see Master Splinter’s expression and reach out to grab Titania’s other hand, thinking that I can hold her back. She’s tiny, after all; I have been practically dragging her all the way here.

She’s moved before I can get as good a grip as I want to, chattering as she pounces. I see her claws extend and shout something – I think it’s “No!” but I’m not sure. I think Mikey screams and I’m not sure if I do, too.

**Oberon’s POV**

I spot the hairy mutant and wuffle quietly, catching his scent and thinking about it. He smells like green soap and tea and those tiny sticks Master lights sometimes to cover a smell in a room. Master uses very powerful stuff that sometimes makes me sneeze, but this Master has only a hint of it on his fur. He’s wearing a red robe with gold on the edges. I like it. And best of all, he has a wooden stick that looks like it’s been chewed on before. Maybe there are other dogs here to play with. And even though it’s not the lawn, I could chase that stick happily around this room. My tail begins to wag.

But then I notice Titania is in the air, pouncing for the Master. I move without thinking, barking savagely. I protect the Master, and this is _a_ Master, if not _my_ Master. I push the purple turtle aside and grab Titania’s tail. She’ll claw me for it, but it’s the only part I can reach. I yank her back from the rat mutant.

**Titania’s POV**

My instinct is to pounce, to chase, to kill and play and maim.

Don seems to release me, but in reality I twist out of his grip and pounce. Flexing my fingers, I push out my claws. _This_ is why they are sharp, though I had only bothered to keep them trimmed in order to please any John wanting some rough play and mementos of his very expensive time with me.

Oberon jumps into action just as I do; I hear him bark and know the pain is about to come. He grabs my tail and I yowl, hissing as I turn and swat him in the muzzle. My claws are sharp; he’s bleeding instantly. He barks again and I land on his chest, clawing at his thick fur. In its matted state, however, it acts like entangling armor. My claws are caught and I can feel some of them chip. I _hate_ his fur.

Then Oberon’s teeth close around the scruff of my neck and he shakes me loose; I hang limply. I am powerless like this; my legs curl up, my arms freeze. My tail is the only thing that can move and it is twitching slowly. I can’t even really close my own eyes.

**Raph’s POV**

It all happens so quickly that we’re all left reeling. Oberon stops shaking Titania and she hangs in his mouth, limp. I think I’ve seen that on a show, somewhere. I hope she isn’t dead. That would be a hell of a way to “save” a pair of mutants we just found.

For that matter, what the fuck.

What the _fuck_ were we thinking, bringing a _cat_ to our _rat father_ without warning either of them?

What the _fuck_ made Oberon snap to Master Splinter’s defense before we, his sons and warriors in our own right, could?

And who the _fuck_ is screaming?

**Mike’s POV**

I can’t stop screaming. It’s stupid, but I can just imagine Titania pouncing Master Splinter like Klunk does to the small mice she can catch. And I know what she does to those poor creatures before they die. I’ve caught her watching one drag itself around by its front limbs, leaving a trail of slime and blood because its guts are hanging out and its hind legs have already disappeared into Klunk’s stomach. I don’t want to see Master Splinter like that.

Thank God the dog-man had moved so quickly. He’s bleeding a bit, but he ignores it and growls at Titania. Raph knocks me over the head and I manage to shut my mouth. It’s suddenly quiet except for a soft mewling coming from the cat-woman.

**Leo’s POV**

That was way too close. I don’t want to know if I would have made it to my father’s side in time to defend him. Master Splinter has already beat a retreat, unable to fight instinct; his door slides shut with as loud a slam as I’ve ever heard.

“Drop her!” Don orders loudly, turning to Oberon now that our father is safely out of sight and hopefully out of mind.

Oberon growls at Titania and then his mouth slowly opens. Titania lands on her hands and knees, shaking. She stays down, pressed to the floor, tail curled around her legs and ears flat. Oberon stands over her; the fur along his shoulders is still stiff.

“Are you okay?” I ask gently, coming over. I ask it of both of them; it’s clear they are both out of sorts. I think Titania is taking the worst of it, though.

Oberon barks and grins, hackles flattening. He looks pleased with himself.

Titania mews quietly. I can’t see her face and I crouch next to her. I can hear Mike pulling Oberon away, soothing the dog-man’s nerves as well. If they need soothing, that is. Don kneels next to me.

“I’m sorry. We didn’t think to warn you.” Slowly, Titania stops shivering. She very carefully sits up, legs under her and tail wrapped firmly around them. It seems to be a defense mechanism. Her expression is carefully neutral.

“I am sorry, too,” she murmurs. “I should not have tried to attack your Master.” She looks at Oberon and there is no hatred or anger in her expression. Oberon grins goofily at her, apparently still her best friend despite just having bitten and shaken her. “Good boy,” she tells him quietly; he whuffs in agreement, tail wagging.

Don and I exchange a glance.

**Mike’s POV**

I distract the dog-man, thinking he might try to hurt Titania. But once he’s let her go, he seems to forget what he had been doing. His fur flattens back down and he’s panting happily again. She calls him a “good boy” and he agrees with her.

I really do not understand what’s going on, so I decide that this guy needs a shower. I always think better in a shower. And, no offense, dude, but you _reek_. It’s more noticeable in our nice, clean, non-sewer-smelly lair.

“Come on,” I tell Oberon. He glances at Titania, at Master Splinter’s door, and whuffs again. This time he sounds indecisive. “It’s time for a bath.” I’ve gotten the feeling that he needs simpler words, almost commands.

“Go with Mike, Oberon. Good boy,” Titania says. Oberon whuffs again, this time directly at her. “I will not do it again. I am sorry. Go on.”

Finally, Oberon barks in agreement and heads into the lair. I trot to catch up; Raph comes with me. Oberon has no idea where he’s going, so I guide him towards the downstairs bathroom by pointing at the door. I’m glad Raph’s with me because this big dude could probably hurt me if he wants to.

I open the door for Oberon when he just stands in front of it. If I hadn’t just had a picture of Master Splinter crawling through his own guts playing over and over in my head, it would be funny, the way the mutant stares around the bathroom. He looks in the mirror and tilts his head curiously, first one way and then the other.

Suddenly his entire body starts wagging and he jumps at the mirror, barking again. His nose hits the mirror and he rears back, startled. His posture screams indecision as he faces his reflection. He barks at himself.

“Dumb mutt,” I hear Raph mutter, but there’s amusement in his voice. My own grin is widening as I watch Oberon inspect his reflection. He tries to look behind the mirror and I have to stop him from ripping it from the wall.

“It’s just you, dude,” I tell him. I stand in front of him and point at myself. “See? I’m there and here.” I wave a bit, meeting his eyes through the reflection.

“Not other dog?” Oberon asks. He sounds sad.

“No, that’s just you,” I reply.

Oberon’s ears droop and he moves away from the mirror, beginning his inspection of the rest of the room. He explores everything – and I mean everything. He sniffs the towels, licks the sink several times, listens with ears perked to the air coming from the heating vent in the bottom of the wall, and then sniffs out the toilet. Before I can stop him, he’s ducked his head into the toilet bowl and is lapping up water.

“Don’t do that!” I yell, pulling back on his shoulder. I suppress a shudder. We clean our rooms when told, we even clean the bathroom when Master Splinter can’t stand the smell any more – or if April comes over – but… It’s not a clean place. We do our business in that thing.

Oberon whines and backs away, ears drooping again. He clearly thinks he’s been bad. I sigh a little. This is why I like cats; they don’t take it personally when you tell them no. If they even listen to you, they’ll act like it was their idea anyway to stop drinking from the toilet bowl.

Raph is fighting back a grin as I help Oberon stand back up. I close the toilet and sit him on the lid. Then I fill a glass of water and hand it to him. He looks at in surprise, and then at me.

 


	3. Bath Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would appreciate comments about what you like and don't like. I am always eager to hear from readers!

**Raph’s POV**

This is fricking funny. I kinda feel bad for the guy; clearly he hasn’t been treated very well if he’s drinking out of a toilet like nothing is new with that. But on the other hand, first the mirror, then this… I’m gonna chuckle for days thinking about this adventure.

Mikey is trying to show Oberon how to drink from a glass. He tries to get his tongue in and lap up water, which means the glass mostly empties onto his chest. I foresee problems in getting him to bathe himself if he can’t even drink water from a glass.

“Watch me and do what I do,” Mike finally suggests. He refills the glass and tilts it back. Smacking his lips and rubbing his plastron, he looks ridiculous, but apparently the dog-man gets the idea. He copies Mike and even succeeds in getting most of it in his mouth.

“Yum,” he mimics my bro. “Mmmm, yummy.”

I wish I had a video camera.

“Now, do you want a bath?” Mike asks. He seems to have realized that we’ll pretty much be bathing this mutant. I can’t decide if I hate that I followed Mike instead of staying with Titania and making Leo help with the dog mutant. I would _love_ to see her in a shower.

Oberon whines but doesn’t argue. For some inexplicable reason, ignoring the tub, he lies down on the floor, stretching out. Mike and I stare at him in confusion.

“Bath?” he asks, lifting his head to look at us. He’s just as confused.

This might be tricky.

**Oberon’s POV**

I don’t like the mirror. It lies. I want a play mate. I haven’t had one since Master put down the Schnauzer that bit a John accidentally. He hadn’t meant to; he’d been going for Titania and she had just been too quick for him. Egeus won’t play with me. He doesn’t like me.

After figuring out that these mutants drink like humans, I realize they want me to, too. I do it to make them happy, since they didn’t like it when I drank from the bowl. I’m a bad dog but I can’t figure out why they haven’t told me that yet.

I’m waiting for one of them to begin washing me but they’re just standing there. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I’m lying wrong? I try turning over.

**Mike’s POV**

Oberon rolls onto his back, presenting his matted stomach and groin. I’m not sure why; Raph and I are speechless and not sure how to fix this. It’s pretty clear this mutant hasn’t gotten the whole “clean the bits and pits” speech.

I can’t really remember that one myself, to be honest. I mean, showering is just something I’ve done all my life. I don’t need to think about it. In fact, I try _not_ to think about showering while I’m showering. I try to think of other things. Or I sing – though Raph calls it “caterwauling.” He, of course, is jealous of my artistic talents.

Oberon’s big brown eyes are confused and sad and a little wary. I think he thinks we think – did I get that right? – that he is a bad dog. He’s not; he’s a very good dog. I need to make sure he knows that.

“Good boy,” I tell him, stepping forward. Raph lets me do my thing; I don’t think he wants to try getting the giant mutant into our bathtub without some plan of action. I take Oberon’s hand – his arms are hanging in the air as if he is trying to keep them out of the way – and tug him into a seated position. Then I kneel in front of him; our heads are about level.

“We do it differently,” I explain, pointing at the bathtub. Oberon looks over his shoulder and tilts his head, ears perked. That’s a good sign; he’s interested. It’s preferable to the hangdog look, at least. And yes, pun intended. “We use water and soap.”

“Like humans?” Oberon asks. I can tell the idea makes him uncomfortable.

“We’re not so different from them,” I say quietly. Oberon snorts as if I’m joking; I’m not. This is one thing I don’t joke about.

**Raph’s POV**

I may be gruff and macho and all that shit Leo doesn’t think is healthy in amounts I have, but the incredulity building on Oberon’s face makes me sick. He clearly thinks he is lower than a human, that he doesn’t deserve to act like one. The toilet bowl thing was funny until I realized that he probably was never given a glass to drink out of before Mikey had shown him how.

I sit next to Mike as my bro struggles to explain why Oberon should shower like a human being. I’m not exactly sure how to explain it, either, mind you. But I gotta try, ‘cause this poor mutt needs some serious help.

“Don’t you like not itching?” I offer, noticing that Oberon has been itching at one particular spot for a while. _I hope he didn’t bring in fleas_ , I think to myself.

Oberon considers the question. I doubt he’s ever thought about it, since it’s never seemed to be a choice with him. He finally nods.

“Wouldn’t you like to not itch all over?” Mike asks, tone bright and cheerful. I can’t match his happy-go-lucky style, but I’ll try.

“You’ll feel good,” I offer as Oberon nods hesitantly. This is all it seems to take; he hops up and into the shower. Then he sits down again and Mike and I stand. He stands, too, mimicking us.

“Good boy,” Mike murmurs. We’ve left the door open; I nudge it shut. I don’t want Oberon getting out and shaking water all over our equipment and TVs… I have wrestling to watch tonight and I _know_ Don won’t want to fix anything when he has new mutant DNA to do his freaky scientific crap on.

I glance at Mike and make a pumping motion with my fist. We play a quick, silent game of rock-paper-scissors. I lose and step into the bathtub behind the dog; he looks over his shoulder, down at me. It’s cramped and I grumble under my breath. Immediately, the hangdog look is back and I curse myself mentally.

“It’s okay,” I say as nicely as I can. It’s not a tone I take often. I pretend that he’s a human female we’ve just rescued… or some shit like that.

Mike flashes me a thumbs up and turns on the water. Oberon spins around, nearly knocking us both down, as the cold water spits from the faucet. His whine is loud and annoyingly sad-sounding as the water touches his furred feet; he retreats and my shell scrapes against the far wall as I serve as a turtle bumper car.

“Good boy, it’s okay,” Mike murmurs. He keeps up a stream of calm, nonsensical talk; Oberon’s ear twitch forward and back and he finally steps forward into the growing pool of water. I can breathe again – and, man, does this mutant stink. Up close and personal, his hair in my nostrils, I could see the fleas wandering through his fur. We’re going to need Master Splinter’s special flea and tick shampoo.

I let Mike know and he nods, still speaking softly and encouragingly to the dog-man. With our coaxing, Oberon kneels awkwardly. At least this way we can reach his shoulders and head easily.

“What a good boy,” Mike coos as he uses the detachable shower head to wet down our pal’s shoulders. Sewage slush, mud, dirt, leaves, carpet fibers, and mats of fur are already clogging the drain and we’re going to need a bigger trashcan before we flood our home. We haven’t even started scrubbing.

I wonder if Don and Leo are having as much _fun_ as we are.

**Leo’s POV**

Titania takes a few minutes to fully relax enough to stand up. She shivers again, one final time, and then automatically raises a loosely-clenched fist to wash herself. Don grabs her hand, interrupting the motion again. He smiles when she looks at him, surprised and a little wary.

“Let’s get you showered up,” he says kindly. Titania shakes her head with a hiss of discontent.

“I said I would wash myself.” She seems stuck on the idea. I can hear Mike trying to explain mirrors to Oberon and glance over, but Raph has joined our youngest brother. I’m sure those two can handle the easy-going mutant. Don might need my help with Titania, however. But I also want to check on Splinter.

“I’ll be right back,” I mutter to Donnie. It’ll probably take him a few minutes to convince Titania not to lick herself clean anyway. Don nods once and I head for our master’s room. Carefully, I slide the door open and step into Master Splinter’s room. His strongest incense is burning and he is kneeling in front of the low table, several candles burning.

I kneel opposite him, taking a moment in the still room to gather my thoughts. “I apologize for bringing a guest into our home without proper warning,” I say softly after a few steadying breaths.

Master Splinter opens his eyes. They are kind and warm. “You are forgiven, though I never blamed you. Not intentionally, at least.” He smiles slightly. I notice that his nose is still twitching. He doesn’t even really like Klunk, but tolerates Mikey’s pet; seeing a cat his size had probably really scared him.

“We found them in an alley. The cat mutant is named Titania; the dog is Oberon.” Master Splinter nods. “I believe they have been…” I’m not sure how to explain my understanding of the two. Clearly, Titania is the alpha of the pair, unless she acts… out of turn? Unless she attacks? I don’t even know. “They mentioned a “Master” that they both know. I think Oberon was… bred… to be a guardian; that’s what Titania called him, anyway. She called herself a pleasurer.” I’m still not sure what that means, but I have a sinking suspicion that it has to do with her stunning looks. She’s definitely not modest.

Master Splinter mulls over this information in silence. “What of their behavior?”

I think about our short trip here. “Titania is very smart. Polite, but reserved. I think it’s a defense against anyone getting close to her. Oberon… isn’t. He’s kind of like Mike, wants to make friends with everyone. He’s…” I’m not sure how to say this without insulting our new guest. I shrug a bit. “He speaks simply and takes commands. He likes Titania and follows her around.”

“But he did not hesitate to defend me from her.” I’m surprised my father noticed in the confusion.

“I… Titania said something after you left. She called him a ‘good boy’ – I think that’s about the best compliment he can understand.” Master Splinter frowns, concentrating. “Like she wanted him to stop her. Or like he was supposed to?” It’s all so confusing.

Master Splinter sighs quietly. “I sense they are both hurting more than they allow anyone, including themselves, to see, my son. Go see to our guests’ comfort. Once they have bathed, eaten, and dressed, I am sure they will be more… receptive.” The twitch in Master Splinter’s muzzle tells me that he needs a bit of time to calm himself down, too.

“Hai, Sensei.” I get up; Master Splinter stops me with a quiet clearing of his throat.

“You did well to bring them to safety, Leonardo, but be wary all the same. Even through indifference and ignorance may harm come to you and your brothers.”

I nod in agreement and shut the door behind me. Titania looks over at me, ears pricked. She probably heard the whole thing. Though we have trained our own hearing, a cat’s ears are naturally designed to pick up sounds in ways that our ear slits are not. Master Splinter probably knew she could hear us, too.

**Don’s POV**

Leo emerges from Splinter’s room just as I’ve convinced Titania to let me show her to the bathroom. She’s convinced that she’ll just… lick herself clean. As if that was actually clean and not any sort of danger to her health. I think she believes we expect her to want privacy.

Well, we do, but not just so she can go and kill herself by ingesting the bacteria in that filthy water. Sometimes I hate living in a sewer. I just hope she lets me examine her for cuts and patch up the little spots of blood on the nape of her neck to keep infection out.

Since Mike and Raph have taken the downstairs bathroom, I lead her to the one we tend to use only rarely, on the second floor. It’s cleaner, being used less often than the downstairs bathroom, and a little smaller, but she’s smaller than Oberon anyway so it shouldn’t be an issue.

Even dirty and upset, she cuts a striking figure. I still haven’t released her hand even though she hasn’t made any move to lick herself again. I like the feeling of her fur in my hand. It’s soft, even when slick with sewer sludge, and I hope she lets me examine her dry fur for cuts, scrapes, and bruises.

She follows me into the bathroom; Leo enters after a short pause. He looks at the door and nudges it partially closed. I’m not sure what to expect, either, so I explain the layout to Titania.

“Towels are in here if you need more,” I say quietly, opening the linen cupboard. She looks at the pile of soft towels with surprise and – is there envy there? I’m not sure what emotions flash across the cat-woman’s face. “Soap, shampoo, and a washcloth are in the shower. The hot water is a little slow, so let it warm up before stepping in.” I walk back over to Leo and we get ready to exit.

Titania snorts, sits down on the toilet, and immediately begins licking herself. _Again_.

“Stop!” I cry, snatching her hand again. Her claws are sharp but my hide protects me. “We just went over this!” I’m a little frustrated, sure; even Mikey wouldn’t forget that discussion between two floors of the lair.

Titania draws herself up, her hand slipping from my grasp. She places her hand in her lap, however, looking at me with a glint in her eye. “I shall not be subjected to a water bath,” she spits angrily. I glance at Leo, lost. I thought she had agreed to this!

**Titania’s POV**

I am beginning to think these terrapins are less intelligent than they first appeared. Don has continuously insisted that I bathe _in water_ , as though I was not perfectly capable of washing myself. He looks a little lost, though, so I take pity on him.

“I have not bathed in water since my creation bath,” I explained patiently. Seeing the lack of comprehension on his face, I try to think of speaking to Oberon. “Remember, when Master created you and brought you forth from your pod? He bathed me in water and then instructed me in my art.” I remember my elder sisters teaching me to wash myself, afterwards. The water was unpleasant; their rasping tongues had been more pleasant, but nothing was better than the calming stroke of my own tongue on my own fur. Cleaning new sisters was a duty, but not one I enjoyed.

Hermia still has issues with washing and thus I am often forced to spot-clean her as well. Sometimes Master watches us or has me clean her most intimately in front of a special selection of Johns and guests. Sometimes he orders her to wash me, though I _always_ wash her smell from my fur as soon as possible afterwards.

These two turtles are still clueless. _Maybe turtles don’t take baths after emerging_ , I think to myself. The only mutants I have personally conversed with are cats, dogs, a parrot, and a pair of ferret brothers. Those two had been a disaster; they stank daily, left droppings all over the base, never paid attention, and never listened to orders. Oberon had eventually shaken both to death on Master’s orders. I had watched, along with my sisters; we learned the price of disobedience in this way.

“We don’t… remember being mutated,” Don explains quietly.

Ah. I pity him. “I am sorry.” I have heard that it can happen – some mental deficiency, leading to imperfect memory forming. Some cases were worse than others. Two guardians before Oberon, there had been a poodle, Lafeu, unable to remember any names; he knew only smells. He called me Spicy. I liked the nickname, but Master had had him put down within a few weeks of his emergence due to his lack of personality. Master likes his pets to be personable with our guests and Johns. Oberon is his best success yet; the dog’s happy-go-lucky, eager-to-please nature made him the perfect first face for a guest to see when entering the base.

“We grew up like this,” he continues. That is very interesting. I had done _some_ growing outside of the pod, but most of it had been within it, dead to the world. Otherwise, Master had once explained within my excellent hearing range, there were complications with development and instinctual behavior. I had emerged almost fully grown and a “blank slate” upon which to impress an art and duty.

“Does your Master often allow his pets to be removed before achieving full growth?” I ask, curious.

I see the shock in Don’s eyes and turn to Leo to see it there, too. “We’re… We’re not pets,” Leo says. Something in his voice breaks and he looks away.

“Guards,” I correct myself, smiling. “I apologize.”

Don is shaking his head. His hand is still holding mine; he seems to be clutching it now. “What he means is, _none of us_ are pets. Not me, not Leo… Not you.”

I raise an eyebrow elegantly. “Does your Master prefer a different term?”

“He calls us his sons,” Leo murmurs. My ears and eyes flick to him in surprise.

“He allows such familiarity?” Perhaps this Master wants a daughter, too.

**Don’s POV**

I can hear the honest confusion in Titania’s voice and… I don’t know what to make of it. I’m confused. I’m sad for her and Oberon. At the same time, I feel this burning rage that her Master had so obviously neglected his duty to her.

Another thought hits me. When we hear “master,” we think of ninjutsu. Sensei is as much our father as our leader, as much our confidant and caretaker as our drill master and teacher. Perhaps less of a caretaker these days, with his advancing age and subsequent aches, but the sentiment is there.

I glance at Leo and then back to Titania. I lick my lips, trying to figure out how to ask my next question. “Titania… Who is your Master?”

Her left ear flicks back and then forward again. I think it’s a sign of confusion. “He is a human. He made us in order to serve him.” I look down, fighting back tears. “We service his guests, entertain his Johns…” My heart breaks a little. “Oberon protects him and keeps us from behaving poorly.”

**Titania’s POV**

“There are more of you?” Leo asks. His voice is quiet and there is something under it that makes my fur puff up. My ears drift downwards in submission; I stubbornly force them upright again.

“I am the eldest of the pleasurers,” I announce, preening a little. “My sisters are Aemilia, Hermia, and Hippolyta. Our guard is Oberon. I do not know if Master has decided to keep Lysander and Egeus.” Those two had not learned their duties as well as the rest of us. I know Master is planning on another Newfoundland mutant, seeing the success he had with Oberon, but the servant position is traditionally filled by a feathered creature of some sort. For my part, I hope he chooses a canary and lets me eat it when it displeases him.

“Are your sisters… like you?”

I sit up a little straighter, haughty. I am _eldest_. I am _best_. Why does this terrapin not understand this? “Of course not.” I sense him relax. “Aemilia is quite new to the art; she panics sometimes, when pleasuring a group of Johns. And she’s a two-way mutant; Russian blue and poodle. I think it made her timid.” Not that that is Master’s fault, at all, of course. Some pets simply don’t come out right, I overheard his scientists explaining to him. I, of course, came out _perfectly_. Well, so far as they know, anyway. But I don’t want to brag and I ignore the tension in Don’s hand. “Hippolyta is a Norwegian forest cat; Master claims she is purebred but I have my doubts. She is too thick to be properly pleasing. Hermia is a husky; pleasant enough, I suppose, if all one wants is a quick fuck.” I hear Leo gasp and Don seems to be choking on something.

“Does… Your Master… He makes you… Um…” Don is stumbling over his words. I look down at him.

“That _is_ what a pleasurer does,” I reply, arching an eyebrow. This terrapin must have brainstorms; they are said to cloud the mind and make the pet unable to think. I never get them. Like I said, I am _perfectly_ bred. Master may even choose to hang my pelt in his room, when I have displeased him for the last time. “What does your base do?” Maybe that will explain these poorly bred mutants.

Don drops my hand and then puts his head in his hands. I can hear him crying, though he tries to suppress it. I look at Leo, confused. Leo’s eyes are hard but there is such sadness there that, for a moment, I feel doubt. Am I in the wrong here?

**Leo’s POV**

I can’t imagine… I am speechless. Rage, sorrow – there aren’t words strong enough to explain what I am feeling. And this poor woman is staring at me as if _I_ have been raped all my life instead of her.

I kneel next to Don quickly, slinging an arm around my brother as his shoulders shake. He’s the gentlest of us, but he can’t possibly misunderstand what our guest has been blithely telling us. With my other hand, I take Titania’s. Her hands are tiny, filled with fragile bones; both are engulfed by my thick fingers.

“We’ll save them,” I promise quietly, both to her and to Don. He hiccups in agreement.

But then Titania huffs, one ear flicking. “Of course, I meant to bring my sisters when Oberon and I left. He left them behind.”

I look up in surprise. “Why were you running?” I ask. Maybe this is the answer to beginning to help her heal. We still haven’t convinced her to bathe – in water, not saliva – but it seems unimportant now.

For the first time, Titania looks uncomfortable. She squirms and looks around as if looking for eavesdroppers. “I fear that… I am not as perfect as Master had hoped.” She looks into her lap, eyes unfocused. I wait patiently; silence is often a better way to get someone to speak than questions. She finally looks up again, meeting my eyes. There is a challenge there. “It is for my kittens that I left.”

I rock back in surprise, glancing automatically to her stomach. I don’t even care that her breasts are right there; I’m more stunned that a mutant is fertile.

**Don’s POV**

I hear Titania’s announcement and look up in shock. My eyes are still sore and my throat hurts from holding back sobs at the thought of what this beautiful woman and her companions have lived through without even knowing the abuse being done to them. But her words make me forget that.

“You’re pregnant?” I ask. She is, of course; she just said so. Her disdainful look at me makes it clear that she won’t repeat herself just so I can wrap my head around this whole thing. Still, a fertile mutant… The odds are impossibly huge, yet here she is.

As I’m looking at her, I realize we _still_ haven’t managed to get her into a shower. I tramp down my hundreds of questions, each one popping out a litter of its own questions, and clear my throat. Leo removes his arm from around me.

“Well, our first job is to get you cleaned up,” I tell Titania. “And I mean in a water bath, not by licking yourself. You’ll get sick – that won’t help your kittens at all.” Appealing to a mother’s instinct to protect her babies can be dangerous, but I risk it. Titania puts her ears back, angry again, but I see some waver in her eyes. “We’ll make it quick; once most of it is gone, you can wash yourself all you like. But I want to make sure you don’t get any infections.”

Titania thinks it over for a long moment; I wait, holding my breath. Finally, she nods once, sharply. I can tell she is not pleased but my appeal to her maternal instincts won out where her missing common sense would not.

She looks uncomfortable, however. I think she is starting to grasp how very different our… upbringings… have been. “I… do not know how to wash with water,” she admits in a whisper. It’s almost as if she can’t figure out if she should be embarrassed or not.

Initially, I blush, but after all, this _is_ something a doctor does occasionally. I’ve washed all of my brothers at one point in our lives. Leo’s flu had left him too weak to stand when he was four, and his fever had drenched him and the sheets in night sweats every night. I had been the one to wash him in the tub while our father changed out the old, patchy linens. Raph had knocked himself out on a ledge when we were twelve and bled all over everyone; I had washed him off then, too, though he didn’t like to think about my gently scrubbing crusty blood from under his shell where it had pooled. And Mike had needed it when he had come down with a terrible infection; fever and pain pills (stolen from an unlucky but well-stocked drug dealer) had made him practically useless in any basic tasks. And Leo and Raph have both bathed me; when I had broken my leg and couldn’t safely get in and out of the high-walled tub and then when I had fallen to a similar flu as Leo but left me shaking with cold so badly I couldn’t grip a bar of soap, let alone walk.

“I’ll show you,” I promise, smiling gently. I want Titania to know that we will protect her, will help her to heal from this abuse she’s suffered, even if she doesn’t seem to realize that something desperately _needs_ healing.

There’s a spark of mischievous amusement in her eyes and I am glad to see it. She stands when I do, though her fur is slicked down with apprehension and her tail will not stop twitching.

“I’ll be just outside,” Leo murmurs. He leaves the room and closes the door softly behind him.


	4. Bath Time, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate comments! :) I've enabled guest commenting, too.

**Leo’s POV**

I lean against the wall heavily. I’m not sure who to talk to first – Oberon, to see if his story is the same? Master Splinter, to get his insight and advice? Raph and Mike, to plan a rescue of our fellow mutants?

My choice is made for me when Raph comes up the stairs. He’s still damp but in a cheerful mood, for him. At the look on my face, though, he stops cold.

“Did it go that badly?” he asks, concerned. I shake my head, then look at the bathroom door and nod slowly.

“Um… Let’s go talk in the dojo.” I head for the stairs; Raph’s right behind me. “Where’s Mikey?”

“He’s showing Oberon the guest room and getting him settled in. It took a while to get him to understand what we wanted. It’s a good thing he’s so…”

“Obedient?” I ask, grounding out the word. His friendly nature seemed at first innocent; now I realize it is sinisterly so.

Raph makes a puzzled sound of agreement. We come to the dojo and kneel, facing each other in our customer positions. Raph is slightly to my left. Slowly, with several pauses as I try to find the words, I summarize what Titania told us. I leave out the part about her pregnancy; she will reveal that to him herself.

**Raph’s POV**

I listen, but it’s like the words are all around me, suffocating me. I can’t breathe. There’s red in my vision and it narrows. I ain’t just mad; I’m fuckin’ _pissed_.

Sure, we might not know these two, but they’re family, in some twisted way. We’re animal-human mutants, hybrids, freaks; if nothing else, that would make me want to help them. But the fucked up things they’ve done and had done to them all their lives? That makes me want to find this Master human and beat _him_ like a bad dog.

A very, very bad dog.

Once Leo is done, it takes me several long, slow breaths to slow my heart beat down again. “If it’s so _natural_ , why’d they fuckin’ leave?” I growl.

Leo doesn’t even reprimand me for my language. I realize he agrees, in his own way, with how furious I am. But he shakes his head. “Titania will have to tell you that herself. It’s her secret to tell. But it’s a good reason. We need to protect her.”

“And the rest of ‘em,” I agree. “When do we leave?”

“That’s the issue. We don’t know where they are. Titania probably knows, but she needed to get clean and Don needs to examine her.” I nod without prodding. I’m already considering what kind of gear to take. Leo’s definitely going to sharpen his throwing knives as soon as we leave the dojo.

“What do we tell Mike?” I ask, debating between throwing stars and caltrops.

“How about the truth?” Mike asks from the doorway. He’s teary and it’s clear he’s heard most, if not all, of the story. It speaks to how distracted I am that I missed his entrance.  “Is… Is it really…?”

I nod sharply. “It’s really that bad.”

Mike wanders over to us and kneels next to me. I pull him into a rough hug. He needs it.

**Mike’s POV**

Hearing Leo’s soft tone as he spoke had originally drawn my curiosity because he and Raph hadn’t been sparring, which they usually did while they talk. When I had slipped the dojo door open and could hear the words, I kind of wished I hadn’t. But on the other hand, I _needed_ to know.

Oberon had fallen asleep as soon as I had him dried off, not even waiting for dinner. He was still in the guestroom, lying curled on the floor despite inviting him onto the bed. He hadn’t been sure if a good dog jumped on the furniture even when allowed.

I really like Oberon; he’s funny and charming. Not very witty, but his honest good will is enough for me. And he’s a dog mutant; he’ll eat _anything_ I can cook. I can finally try some of the more out-there recipes I’ve been wanting to test.

But that is going to have to wait, because right now I want to find this Master and drag _his_ nose through a puddle like a bad puppy. Preferably _before_ Raph gets his mitts on the bastard, since he won’t survive a round with my hothead brother.

“When do we leave?” I ask. My voice is harder than usual; I feel Raph shift a bit. It’s not usual for me to _ask_ to get into a fight, but I think I’m allowed in this instance.

“That’s my line,” Raph says. I glare at him, both for the lame attempt at humor and for the interruption. His mouth snaps shut; I’m impressed. Mad Mikey is a badass.

“Immediately. We need to get Titania and Oberon settled, but we cannot leave the rest to suffer for longer than we must.” Leo’s got his leader face turned up high. He’s already considering angles of attack, lines of defense, plans for retreat. I let him plan; that’s what he does.

“Then I’d better get some food for them,” I say, standing. Raph gets up as well, muttering something about checking the car. We’ll save our energy for the fight and drive to the location. It’s up to Leo to figure out where we’re going, too.

I wonder what Oberon likes to eat. Then I realize he’s probably never been asked that, much less had his opinion consulted as to the perfect balance of gravy and chicken. That decides me. He’s getting something special. I head for the kitchen, as serious in my own way as though going into battle.

**Don’s POV**

Some corner of my mind is firmly entrenched in the sewers and makes observations that have nothing at all to do with examining my new patient. “I’m going to turn on the water,” I warn Titania. She nods; I turn the spigot. The sound of water makes her flinch and her ears go back, but she holds my hand – _fur, so soft_ – and stays put. I test the temperature with one finger, waiting patiently for it to warm.

“First, we’ll rinse off the biggest stuff,” I explain as we wait for the water to warm. “Then we’ll work on anything that’s stuck. Do you like-” I stop. I almost asked if she wanted soap or shampoo; she’s never had either. Titania waits for me to finish. Her posture is tense and she seems… scared. _Hug her, comfort her,_ that insipid little voice murmurs. “We’ll go with a shampoo first, and soap for your thinner fur,” I decide. The water’s warmed up.

First, though, I turn to look Titania in the eye, very serious. I take both of her hands gently, my grip as light as possible. I want her to know that she is _not_ under any sort of orders around here. “We can take as long as you like. If you want to stop, just say so.”

Titania nods a bit; her eyes are wide and the whites are bigger than usual, indicating that she is scared. Her tail has puffed up and sticks out stiffly from her rear. Trying to comfort her, I run my hand along her upper arm. _Such soft fur, I love it._ She glances at me and then back at the bathtub; I let her take her time.

“Let’s make this fast,” she finally says. She steps into the bathtub and hisses immediately with displeasure, ears flat down. But, bravely, she stands still. Either that or she’s frozen in place.

I know she wants it over with as soon as possible so I detach the shower head – thank goodness I put those in years ago to help us clean up after a fight! – and aim the water at the worst of the spots. The drain quickly plugs; I scoop it out and onto the side of the bathtub several times before I am content that the worst of it is gone from the feline’s fur. Titania has her eyes pressed shut and her arms hugging her chest, ears pinned flat. _Step in and rub her back that_ little voice suggests tauntingly. I ignore it as any professional would.

“Take a deep breath,” I say gently, matching my breathing to hers and slowly lengthening our breaths. “Do you want to scrub yourself?” _No, let me, let me,_ it begs.

Titania stiffly nods and holds out her hand; I squeeze some shampoo into her palm. I let the water run straight down the drain as she quickly and jerkily rubs suds into her front, arms, and legs. She doesn’t touch her neck or face.

“Titania, I’m going to need to clean your face and back, too,” I say softly. Titania makes a soft, pitiful mewling sound but closes her eyes again and seems to be waiting; with one hand, as gently as possible, I apply soap to the thin fur of her face and rub suds into her head, neck, and back fur. _This is as good a setup as any porno,_ the voice snickers.

I start at her head and run the water over her. Titania keeps her eyes shut and only moves when I gently pull her arms apart to make sure they are clean. As I rinse her off, I keep my eye out for any injuries, but other than a few old, tiny scars on her neck where Oberon has probably bitten her before and the new ones from meeting Master Splinter, I see nothing alarming. Well, other than a few bruises which could speak to a nutritional deficiency and, of course, her skinniness. Without the padding of fur, her ribs, hips, and joints stand out more.

 _I need prenatal vitamins,_ I think to myself. I’ll have April pick some up. _And some kitten food, in case…_ In case one of far too many possible disasters befalls us. Titania could die in labor. She could die from infection or blood loss. Even if she survives, she could reject her litter or be unable to produce milk.

Finally, it’s done; I turn off the water and Titania is out of the bathtub and across the room before I can attach the nozzle back to the wall. She’s frantically shaking out the water and hugging herself. Moving slowly and carefully, I offer her a towel; she looks at it for a long moment before taking it in one slim hand and wrapping it carefully around herself. I hand her a smaller one and motion to her head; she understands and begins to vigorously rub that dry, too.

I start to open the door when her clawed hand on my arm stops me. “Thank you,” Titania murmurs, almost too quietly to hear. Smiling, I put my hand over hers.

“You’re welcome. You’re safe here. When you’re ready, come downstairs for some food.”

She nods and goes back to drying off. She’s still a little dirty, but I’ve left her enough to wash herself without feeling cheated by our deal.

The mood downstairs is heavy; I could cut the tension with Raph’s blunt sai. Mikey is in the kitchen; I’m not sure if he’s cooking or has made an impromptu drum set out of the cupboard and pots and pans. Raph is in the dojo, gathering his equipment for what looks like a heavy raid. I assume he’s preparing for our upcoming rescue mission. Leo’s probably speaking to Splinter.

**Titania’s POV**

I hate water. Even getting splashed makes me angry. The towels help to dry my fur and clean it further; I sit on the floor and start on my hands and arms. I wash them carefully, smoothing the fur and nibbling at any clumps. I will have a hairball soon.

Then I concentrate on my face, washing my hands and then rubbing my face and head. I can’t quite reach everywhere with my tongue and hands, but I am much more flexible than the average human and manage.

When finished, I am still damp from the water. I stand again, curling my tail around my ankle and examining my face and belly in the mirror for any imperfections. Noticing a couple of spots that need attention, I chew out a knot and smooth it down.

Finally, I am ready to face my hosts. I feel clean again, though I smell like the shampoo that Don had given me. It smells of strawberries, but not real ones – more like the strawberry jam Master enjoys on his toast some mornings. My stomach grumbles and I remember that I am hungry.

Leaving the room, I notice that the base is quiet. I hear Oberon kicking in his sleep on the lower floor; he is in a room. Today has tired him; I am ready for a nap of my own. But first, I will find out what provisions are provided to pets.

 _They call themselves sons,_ I remind myself, walking to the head of the stairs. I touch the railing; it is cold metal and scratched with use.

On my way in, I had not taken the time to look around our new accommodations. The door through which we entered is shut, keeping the warmth in and the smell of the sewers out. I am pleasantly surprised to find that the sewage smell is very faint inside. To the right of the door are three wooden doors and an open doorway. There are sounds coming through the open door, metal striking metal and occasionally a _ding!_ noise as well as a heavy door opening and then closing once. From the smell, they prepare meals there.

The next door over has no handle but a groove; it slides into the wall as I watch. The rat Master emerges and I hold myself still despite the soft chatter that tries to break from my mouth. Over his brown fur, he is wearing a brown kimono, trimmed in gold ribbon, and walks stiffly, left hand braced against a cane. He looks quite old; his mouth fur is greying and his bushy eyebrows are not particularly neat. His long ears end in sparse tufts of grey hair. He is quite animalistic and not very well bred; the only indication of his mutation is his size, clothing, stance, and obvious intelligence. He holds his tail above the ground behind him.

The next two doors are closed; they appear to have handles and open in the more usual way. Behind one, my sensitive ears catch the sounds of loud music. I suspect someone is in that room.

I cannot see what lies under the short “balcony” upon which I stand; it juts out over the main floor for several feet. Likely there is space underneath for relaxation as well as working rooms. I wonder if there is a vacant one into which I can move.

To the right of the main door is a large living area with a pair of well used couches and one battered arm chair. They are hideous and not well coordinated; it looks as though this base is furnished from a junk yard. Master always buys only the best furniture for his Johns. Sometimes I catch a nap on the warm, soft bed on which I service my Johns. Sometimes they like to think they sneak up to wake me, a fantasy which I indulge.

There is a large TV in front of the couches. That must be where the Master entertains his guests before having his servant show them to one of us. It is off for now, and there are no humans on the couches, so the base must be closed. Or, judging by the run-down look of the place, perhaps they have no guests.

Next to that is a large wooden table, rectangular, with seven mismatched chairs sitting around it. That must be what passes for a dining room in this place. There is, again, the theme of a junkyard, though everything looks decently clean at least.

Perhaps I should go back to Master. At least his base is beautiful and attracts guests.

I turn around, examining the second floor. There are four doors here, each one with a handle and several strange symbols above each frame. They smell like each of the turtles in turn; the farthest to my left is Leo’s, then Don’s, then Mike’s, and finally Raph’s. I hear someone moving around in Don’s room but decide not to interrupt the terrapin.

Back on the main floor, the Master has spotted me. His face fur is raised, indicating that he is tense, but he does not exude fear scent. Curious, I walk down the stairs and over to him. Kneeling slowly and then lowering my head to the floor, I silently beg his forgiveness.

**Leo’s POV**

Coming out of the kitchen – Mike practically banished me until he finishes cooking dinner for our guests – I spot Titania kneeling in front of Master Splinter. As I watch, she leans forward until her face is on the ground, ears pressed down in submission. Her face is inches from my father’s clawed toes.

Master Splinter immediately crouches, setting his cane aside. “My child, you need not beg an old rat forgiveness for what was not your fault,” he says gently, smiling. He carefully lifts her head; she looks up at him. There is surprise and wary mistrust in her face before she smooths out her expression.

“I beg it anyway, Master,” she murmurs softly, ears still pressed down. She is looking down, anywhere but meeting his gaze.

“Then you may consider it given freely and without reluctance,” Master Splinter says. He draws the cat-woman to her feet and I quickly walk over to brace his elbow as he tries to pick up his cane. His earlier fright probably made his joints ache again; I hope he took some Tylenol or something.

“Thank you, my son,” he says quietly, gripping his cane again. Titania looks shocked – and a little envious – at the confirmation of what I had said earlier. He looks at the cat woman again, smiling gently. We can both sense how confused the cat-woman is. “My name is Splinter, child. Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo are my sons; I raised them as my own once I became aware of our changes.” She tilts her head to one side, listening intently. “Let us sit; Leonardo, please bring Ms. Titania some tea.”

“Hai, Sensei,” I say softly. I already have the kettle on to boil; it will only be a few moments to prepare tea. But I’m not sure that I like leaving Titania alone with my father.

Sensei senses my hesitation and pats my arm. “It is alright, my son; we will wait in the living room.” I nod reluctantly and go to the kitchen. I hear Master Splinter lead Titania over to the couches.

When I come back with the tea tray, Titania is sitting stiff-backed on the couch while Master Splinter has taken his usual seat in the armchair. I put down the tray and serve Master Splinter first, adding a half-packet of sugar and stirring it in with the small spoon. Then I offer a cup to Titania, who looks at it and then at me in confusion.

**Titania’s POV**

The cup has hot tea in it; Leo waits patiently until I carefully take it from him. It is a small cup, decorated with tiny blue birds. The smell of the tea is pleasant and not overpowering. I notice there is also a pitcher of cream on the tray but do not allow myself more than a single glance at it.

Leo must have noticed the glance as he picks it up and offers it to me. I am so confused, though I try to be polite. Am I supposed to drink the tea or the cream?

“Would you like cream in your tea?” Leo asks softly. I realize his intention and tilt my head.

“I have never tried it,” I explain. It sounds pleasant, however, and I nod. Leo pours a small amount of cream into the tea, turning the dark liquid into a lighter green color. I glance over; the Master is sipping from his cup. Leo sits next to me, leaving a little space between us, maybe thinking I want that, and takes up his own cup. He stirs a little sugar into it and sips from his cup as well. Politely, I take a discreet sniff of mine to see if it is drugged; I cannot smell anything in it, so I let my tongue taste it.

It is one of the best things I have tasted. The cream is warm from the tea, the tea is pleasantly scented. I lap up a little, quietly, and it runs down my throat, leaving warmth behind. I let my eyes drift shut as I continue lapping up the delicious tea.

**Leo’s POV**

She’s lapping at it, but then again, she _is_ a cat. At least she seems to like it; her eyes are closed and she’s not quite as tense as before. I watch her as I drink my own tea. It’s a green blend, nothing special, though Master Splinters has a little lemon in it with his sugar. It brewed a little too long because Mike asked me to help him by taking out a cake from the oven, but thankfully it’s an herbal and therefore didn’t get bitter.

I finish my cup and set it down; the movement seems to wake Titania and she opens her eyes. She seems immediately worried and looks carefully at Master Splinter, curling her tail around her knees in that defense gesture again.

“I hope you enjoy your tea,” Master Splinter says before she can try to apologize or something.

“It is excellent,” Titania responds in a murmur. “I particularly like the addition of cream.”

“It’s European,” I explain. “They drink milk in their tea. I thought…” Wait, I don’t want to stereotype her! She might be a cat but could have hated cream for all I knew. Open mouth, insert foot.

**Titania’s POV**

He smiles a little at me. “I enjoy cream. Master rarely allows us treats. Though the crunchies are good, too.” I think about the little packets of chicken, wrapped in a crunchy shell. Master sometimes tosses them to us and has us fight over them.

“Are you hungry?” Leo asks. He seems confused when I tilt my head; he looks at the rat Master. I have never been asked that. I am fed on a schedule, after all. Master sometimes teases us by holding back a meal and then dangling a crunchy in front of our noses without letting us have it; maybe he is teasing me. I try not to pin back my ears at him; he could beat me if Master Splinter lets him.

“I am hungry,” I agree when he seems to be waiting for an answer. He stands up and I move to follow him, but Master Splinter shakes his head gently and I guiltily sit back down.

“Leonardo, please fetch something for our guest while I speak with her,” Master Splinter orders. Although, listening to his tone and looking at his posture, it is not an order but a request. Is there really a difference when coming from a Master, though?

“Hai, Sensei.”  I am curious as to what that means; it seems to be an agreement as Leo moves towards the kitchen.

“Child.” I look at Master Splinter. His tone is gentle and as kind as I’ve ever heard. It still takes me by surprise and I struggle with how I should respond. Is he trying to be nice? Is he trying to lure me into a trap? I do not know. “Ms. Titania, will you tell me of your life?” Again, his tone is like a request, but of course it is an order… Right?

He senses my hesitation and confusion and leans forward, patting my knee. I automatically shift to open my legs, thinking he wants to inspect me. This, however, causes a rather interesting response; instead of moving forward, Master Splinter quickly draws back, surprised and… scared? Or is the catch of breath a sign of displeasure? I close my legs again. Something tickles at the back of my throat and I cough to clean it, looking down.

_Master Splinter’s POV_

This poor child… Her obvious distress and confusion tug at my heart. I tried to comfort her, but she mistook my intentions, I believe. We are both trying to figure out what the other wants. I do not know how to express to this poor woman that I want nothing from her than she has been forced to give before. I simply want to put her at ease. But, ironically, it seems that my own goodwill is confusing and scaring her.

Still staring at her cup of tea – after her initial drink, she has not tasted it again – she begins to speak.

“I am a British Shorthair,” she murmurs. “Master created me to please his guests when my predecessor, Julia, displeased him enough to have his guard shake her to death. He taught me how to give pleasure, in body and mind. Well, technically, I guess my older sisters did – Lucetta, Silvia, and Valentine. I am now the eldest; my sisters are Aemilia, Hermia, and Hippolyta. Oberon, the Newfoundland, is our guard.”

I sense that the dog-man, Oberon, takes on the role of prison guard more than guardian of the four sisters. He was certainly quick to protect me from Titania.

“Master entertains many humans. My sisters and I tend to their physical needs; I also provide mental stimulation, as necessary. Lysander serves them – he is a macaw – when they require anything. Egeus is very new; he was supposed to replace Oberon. But Oberon is well bred, so I think Master will have him kill Egeus instead and start over.”

It hurts my heart that a human is forcing mutants to… service… humans and kill each other when they displease him. From the soft voice and bland tone, however, Ms. Titania seems to think her report is nothing unusual.

It takes her a moment to find her next words. I sense that she struggles with how to tell me a secret.

“I… left… because I am not perfectly bred,” she finally admits in a whisper. Ms. Titania says it in the same tone of voice that Leonardo uses when he finds himself at fault for some injury that befalls his brothers. I realize it is shame that colors the young woman’s voice, but she seems unused to the feeling and looks uncomfortable.

“What do you mean?” I ask softly when she is quiet for several long moments. I think she has forgotten the cooling tea in her hands.

“I have become… pregnant,” she finally murmurs.

I look quickly down, automatically, to her stomach. Her six breasts had caught me by surprise before, and I should have asked Leonardo to bring her something to cover herself with, but her obvious comfort with being naked had stopped me. She does not appear to be enlarged yet; I hope she is healthy enough to bear children. I will ask Donatello to tend to her and provide medical support, if she allows it.

**Titania’s POV**

I have spoken my secret and wait for this new Master to order Oberon to shake me to death. Mutants cannot breed; it an unspoken law. No, more than a law. It is holy words, a religion, an unannounced _truth_.

We’re not animals, we’re not humans. Only those can breed. We… I… am nothing.

But the kittens growing inside me made me want to be something. Anything. Even a filthy alley cat would be better than putting them in danger. I would have accepted my death if it would not have killed my kittens.

My shoulders hunch as I prepare for death, for Oberon’s teeth closing over my neck. I quickly put down the cup, realizing it is still in my hands; I do not want to break it. It is beautiful, I realize, despite the tiny chip in the rim.

My vision swims and I wonder if Oberon already has me and I am dying. Perhaps it is a painless act. But then I realize that it is tears that obscure my eyes, not brain death.

Then, through the blur, I see Master Splinter kneeling stiffly before more and he is not angry. His paws take up my hands and he is squeezing them gently. I feel one of the turtle’s heavy hands on my shoulder and tense without thinking. Of course. Rather than allowing Oberon to shake me, Master Splinter will order one of his own terrapin guards to kill me.


	5. Getting Settled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to update the rating to explicit after writing a later chapter that got too detailed for Mature.

**Leo’s POV**

I come out of the kitchen to find Titania sitting, hunched, on the sofa. Master Splinter carefully lowers himself to his knees in front of her, taking her hands. She must have told him her secret; I walk over, bowl of soup in one hand, and lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. Titania tenses briefly but then relaxes again.

It is several long moments before she seems to realize something and lifts her head a tiny bit.

“I am not dead?” she asks, looking strangely at Master Splinter. It’s all I can do not to let a hiccup-sob out at the plain fear and surprise in her voice.

“No, child, no,” Master Splinter says, shocked. “We would never kill anyone. _Especially_ a new mother carrying her children so bravely.” Titania appears poleaxed.

“But… I am not perfectly bred…” she argues.

She protests her own lack of death. If that’s not an indication of exactly how screwed up this whole situation is, I don’t know what is.

I walk around the couch and sit next to the woman. Master Splinter gently releases her hands; I hand her the bowl of soup, which she takes which confusion and mounting incredulous relief, and help my father return to his seat. We share an expressive glance; repairing the mental damage from however long this woman had suffered would be difficult.

Titania’s own protest made me realize just how brave the woman sitting next to me is. Escaping from a bad owner – any animal can do that. But refusing everything you thought to be true to run, to protect your children… It would be like Master Splinter taking us to Shredder to raise instead of teaching us ninjutsu himself… Or something like that. 

Titania still hasn’t touched her soup; she’s looking at it and tears are slowly falling from her eyes, though she doesn’t seem to notice them. I gently and slowly put an arm around her shoulders, lightly. I don’t want to make her feel trapped.

She glances at me and then at the soup and picks up the spoon. Her fingers tremble a little, but Titania gathers herself with a short, quick breath and then tastes the soup. Despite the recent turmoil, her eyes open wide and she looks down in a bit of shock.

“It is excellent,” Titania murmurs, quickly taking another spoonful.

“I’ll tell Mike you like it,” I chuckle. “He’s a genius in the kitchen.”

That startles a small chuckle from the woman, who is still spooning up soup like she hasn’t eaten in a while. Maybe she hasn’t. Since she doesn’t seem to mind my arm around her, I leave it; her fur is soft against my hide and she might be cold.

**Raph’s POV**

I hear Oberon bark suddenly from inside his room. He seems to want out; I wonder why he doesn’t just open the door and remember how much work Mikey and I had just giving the dog-man a bath. I leave the dojo, panting from my workout, and knock at his door. I can see Leo, Sensei, and Titania sitting in the living room.

My eyes narrow; Leo’s arm is around Titania’s shoulders. Is Fearless making a move for the woman?

Oberon’s happy bark pulls my attention back to the door. I guess that’s an invitation and open the door. Oberon bounds through, knocking me down and landing on my plastron – _ouch_.

He. Starts. Licking.

“Agh!” I yell, bringing up my hands to shove the overly enthusiastic mutant off. Oberon hops away, crouched, entire body wiggling.

“Raph?” Mike calls, appearing from the kitchen. I jump up, wiping drool from my face and chest. At least he didn’t jump on me before we had bathed him or I would’ve needed a shower. Seeing the issue, Mikey starts howling with laughter.

I growl and since I don’t want to punish Oberon – he’s already looking guilty and his ears are down – I launch myself at Mike.

“Ahh!” he screeches, darting into the kitchen. I tackle him into the back wall and drag him out by his bandanna tails; the entire family and Titania and Oberon are watching us, since Don’s emerged from his lab at the noise.

I drag him towards Oberon and plunk my baby brother down in front of the dog-mutant. “Sic ‘im,” I growl at the dog-man, grinning. Oberon tilts his head in confusion and then seems to understand and yips happily. He pounces Mikey and they go down with the youngest yelling.

Oberon’s tongue makes quick work of Mikey’s chest, face, and head; the youngest struggles under the big mutant. He’s crying with laughter, though, so Oberon seems to think this is a fun new game. I’m grinning like a dork, watching them.

“Okay, okay, good boy, enough,” Mikey howls through his laughter, swatting gently at the big mutant. Oberon gives his cheek a final sloppy kiss and releases him. Mike sits up, holding his sides.

“Good boy!” I tell Oberon, cackling at the slimy film on my bro.

**Oberon’s POV**

I am a good boy. I like this new game. Raph is laughing, everyone is laughing. Except Titania, but she looks happy, too. I hope she is. I like this new place. I feel good, too; my fur is light and smells good, it doesn’t feel heavy. My room was warm and the floor was so soft. I wonder who sleeps in there usually; there was a human bed.

Mike wanted me on the bed, but I’ve never been allowed on the furniture so I wasn’t too sure. He didn’t make me get up there, anyway. But no one came into the room while I napped so I had to ask to be let out.

When Raph had opened the door, I wanted to show him how happy I am, so I jumped on him and gave him kisses. He hadn’t liked it, and I was ready to be punished, but then he told me to kiss Mikey instead. I like Mikey – he tastes like the cook’s hand when she feeds me tidbits from the cooking room.

Everyone looks happy but then I remember why I wanted out. I get up and move towards the door. Standing in front of it, I realize no one has followed me, and they’re watching me; I put a hand on the door and whine softly.

“Pee?” I ask softly. I didn’t see a pee spot on the way in, but maybe I just wasn’t looking hard enough.

Raph shakes his head, still grinning. “Over here,” he says, waving a hand. I follow him, but he leads me back to the room where he and Mike had gotten me all wet and rubbed at my fur.

I cock my head to the side. “Why here?” I ask, looking into the room. “Bath time?” I just had a bath. I need to pee.

**Raph’s POV**

Oh, good Lord, he doesn’t pee in toilets. I turn dark green, blushing, and Mike stifles his giggles as he keeps wiping dog drool off his face.

“Um… No,” I say quickly. “You can pee in here.”

“Oh.” This seems to be confusing for him. “No spot?” He steps into the room, looking around, apparently for a spot – whatever that is.

Titania calls over, helpfully, though her voice is subdued. “He is looking for a grass lawn in which to do his business. It is how he was trained.”

I glance at her; she’s holding a bowl. I’m glad someone fed her; she needs some meat on her frame. But Leo is still hovering over her, even if his arm isn’t over her shoulders any more.

“You pee into the toilet,” I explain. God, please don’t make me have to show him how.

Oberon looks at it, and then at me, doubtfully. This would be hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking sad. He just… starts peeing.

Fuck.

**Don’s POV**

I can see the difficulty Raph is having as he quickly has Oberon stand in the tub and washes him down. I come into the bathroom to help, picking up the soiled rug and setting it outside the door.

“You can pee in here,” Raph tells Oberon, in as gentle a voice as I’ve heard from the hothead. The dog-man nods hesitantly and we both politely turn our backs. Oberon shuffles around a little and then we hear him relieve himself. When he’s done, Raph takes him to the table to feed him and I mop the floor, disinfecting it, and then take the rug to the laundry and start the load to get the smell and germs out.

With a pregnant woman around, we need to step up the cleanliness of the lair; I’ve been thinking about that even while researching feline anatomy and pregnancies, waiting for Leo to find out where we’ll be staging our rescue mission.

I come back into the living room to find Titania and Leo talking quietly on the couch. At his insistence, she seems to be listening and eating her soup more than talking. He’s probably explaining our own history; she doesn’t ask a lot of questions, but she looks very confused.

Master Splinter has retreated to his room, probably to meditate. Raph is in the bathroom, probably washing his face after Oberon’s enthusiastic greeting. Mike is feeding Oberon, which mostly means putting a plate of food in front of him and snatching his fingers away as Oberon chows down without utensils. His face fur is already streaked with his previous victims – it looks like soup and chicken, so far. I hope he doesn’t throw it all up later.

“Go gently,” I tell Mike. “If he hasn’t had a lot to eat, it could be a shock to his system.”

Mike nods. “I made them soup and some broiled chicken. Figured they needed the protein.” To be honest, I’m a little surprised at his thoughtfulness.

“Good. Thank you, Mikey.”

“Do they need those supplements you make us take?” he asks, taking away a cleared plate. Oberon sniffs at the table and licks up some crumbs, then looks eagerly at Mike again. He shakes his head gently. “Breathe, Oberon; there’s plenty of food. Do you want some water now?” The dog-man nods and Mike hands him a glass. He seems to know what to do with that, at least.

I’m glad of the suggestion and nod in response to Mike’s original question. “That’s a good idea. I’ll get them.”

I walk into the kitchen and fetch down the large bottle of general multi vitamins. They’re nothing truly exotic, though I usually add an extra calcium tablet for everyone in the morning, and they help with nutritional deficiencies that we’ve grown up with. I shake out two of the tablets for Oberon and one for Titania. She’s so small that I don’t want to accidentally give her too much to handle.

Mike stuffs the tablets into a piece of soft chicken and tosses it to Oberon; the dog-man catches it easily and wolfs it down without chewing.

Then I walk over to the couches; Leo has Titania’s hands in his and is listening as she speaks. Her second bowl of soup is on the table next to a cold cup of milk and tea.

“There are two guards – Oberon and Egeus. Egeus is new, an Australian cattle dog. He is small but vicious when angered. With Oberon’s disappearance, Master may have another dog created, but that takes a while.”

“How long does it take?” I ask curiously. Titania looks at me and I can see mental and emotional exhaustion in her. I suspect she’s also physically exhausted, of course, but she hides that better.

“About a week,” she guesses. “It takes longer for small breeds and for well bred pets.” I _still_ don’t like that word and she notices my wince. “Sorry, mutants.” Her ears tick backwards and then forwards again.

“Do you know what you need to?” I ask Leo. I want to put Titania to bed – _not_ in my own, though I wouldn’t object too strenuously if she insisted…

Leo nods, standing and helping Titania stand as well. She is graceful and smiles her thanks; her smile makes me melt a little. Leo heads off, moving towards the dojo to gather his things. We’ll hit tonight, then, before this Master asshole can realize his… pets… are missing.

“I have a vitamin for you,” I tell Titania, holding out the table. It’s hard to grip the tiny things in my meaty digit, so it rests on my palm instead.

Titania gently takes it from my palm and picks up her cold tea. She puts the pill in her mouth and laps tea from the cup for several quick heartbeats before swallowing both.

“Would you like to rest now?” I ask, voice soft.

Titania nods and I offer her my arm again. She rests her palm on it without hesitation and I lead her to the second guest room. When I open the door, she looks inside and smiles. “It’s beautiful,” she murmurs.

The room is actually pretty plain. There’s a bed along one wall covered in a faded flower-patterned down comforter. It gets cold in the sewers. The other wall has a few generic pictures on it, the ones you find in the trash all the time. They’re not torn, which is why they’re decorating a guest room. There’s a small dresser facing the door; April keeps some emergency changes of clothing in there. She won’t mind if I offer Titania some of it, though the mutant is smaller than our human friend. I’m still very conscious of the cat-woman’s breasts.

“It’s all yours, until… Until you figure out what you want to do,” I finish lamely. Titania glances at me, surprised.

“Who inhabits it usually?” she asks softly.

“Our human friend, April.” She blinks. “She keeps some clothes here – she wouldn’t mind if you want to use some to, um, cover up.” I wave at the dresser.

“Does my… nakedness… embarrass you?” she asks, voice quiet. She steps in; since her palm is still on my arm, I can’t help but follow.

“Um…” How do I explain the modesty we grew up with that this mutant is clearly lacking? I can’t help but glance at her top pair of breasts.

She smiles a bit. “You may touch me,” she offers, stepping closer. I gasp a little, shocked at the forwardness. Of course, if she was used as a…pleasurer, that was the word she used… If she was used as that, then she’s used to being immodest and used to having people paw at her.

I step back a little and see confusion and a little hurt flash through her expression. “It’s not…” I rub my face with one hand, trying to explain. “We were raised to respect women. And men, but that’s not what I’m talking about. We… Your body is yours, and no one can touch you or use you unless you want them to. Does that make sense?”

It clearly doesn’t. “How do I know if I want them to?” she finally asks.

 _Your shell is tight_. Dammit, that voice better leave me alone, I need to focus. We need some boundaries here. I don’t want to think about this woman trying to… service… all of us. I don’t even want to think about not thinking… too late.

“You… You just do,” I say lamely. “Not for gain or to make someone else happy. To make yourself happy.”

She mulls that over, tail tip twitching. It’s not around her ankle anymore but loose behind her, swaying gently. The rhythm is intoxicatingly sexy. “What if I want something they have?”

“You ask for it,” I suggest, smiling.

“Will you ask to touch me when you have decided to overcome your shyness?”

The blunt question makes me backtrack. “N-yes! If I want to touch you, I’d ask.”

“Then you do not wish to touch me?”

 _All over,_ that little voice hisses in excitement. I palm my face. “No, I do… I do. You’re lovely, beautiful, sexy, amazing, graceful...” _Shut up, you rambling idiot._ “But… But it’s your body. And… And I don’t want to… to take advantage of you…” God, I sound stupid.

**Titania’s POV**

The terrapin turns a darker green; I think he is blushing. I have seen humans do it, though they often turn red. Perhaps the increased blood flow to his face simply turns the turtle’s skin darker, not redder. Or perhaps he is struggling against his obvious attraction. I had thought to calm him with my offer, but it has had the opposite effect and now we are both trying to correct our understanding. Or mine, at least; I suspect he knows exactly why I was offering myself.

Today has been a very trying day. I have had an occasional John, interested in my appearance but not sexually, refuse my advances. But they have always made free with touching me and speaking to me, and never have they attempted to explain this new concept. I wonder if it ever occurred to them to ask permission to touch me.

Guests will ask to pet Oberon, but that is probably because of his size and teeth. Master taught us to curl up on the laps of receptive guests, so I have never thought about being asked if I want to be petted. It simply happens or does not happen.

I try to put the pieces together in my head and then repeat my understanding back, seeing if I have grasped this new concept that seems to be quite important to everyone in this strange… group. Family?

“I can ask that someone not touch me, and I must ask before touching someone else or taking their property.”

“And we won’t take your property, either,” Don adds. He seems relieved that I apparently understand. Except that I truly do not.

How do I know if I want to be touched? I know there are different ways to touch – some Johns go straight for my genitals. Other take their time, touching my fur and face with their hands and lips. Still others simply stroke my back while I curl up in their lap. Which of these is sexual and which is not?

Leo did not ask to put his hand on my shoulder, nor did he ask to put his arm around my shoulder when we spoke on the couch. Master Splinter had not asked before taking my hands when I had admitted to my secret and thought he was going to have me killed. Don sort of asked when we first met, when he offered me his arm – had he been giving me the choice not to touch him? But he had seemed to expect me to…

It is very confusing and I am too tired to consider all of the possible angles in this new concept. Instead, I smile at Don – his eyes are warm when he looks at me but at my smile there is heat behind them. Did I just touch him without asking?

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, looking down.

Don sighs quietly and lifts my chin. Now he has touched me without asking. Are we even? “No, _I’m_ sorry. I will control my reactions better.” He gestures again to the dresser. “Feel free to help yourself. My brothers and I are going to find the rest of your family and bring them back. If you need anything, Master Splinter is two doors down.”

I nod and a feeling of warmth fills my chest. It’s like when Master gives me a treat; a good feeling, to be sure, but there is something more in it. Before I can figure it out, Don is gone, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The bed looks inviting and I climb onto the comforter, surprised by the warmth and softness. I barely remember not to knead it with my claws – I will tear the fabric – as I curl up, tail wrapped around my front, hands tucked under my chin. I decide to sleep first; then I will return to this puzzling new way of living.

**Leo’s POV**

“Titania’s asleep,” Don reports quietly. Oberon is dozing on the floor in front of Mike, who had tried to get him to sit on the couch and watch TV. Apparently the dog-man is uneasy about being on the furniture and Mike doesn’t push him. It looks ridiculous to have the giant dog mutant curled up with his head on Mike’s feet, squished between the low coffee table and the couches.

Based on the warm look on Mikey’s face as he looked at Oberon, ignoring the TV, Leo suspected he had taken up the mutant’s cause. As much as I hate the word being applied to mutants, there’s really no way to explain Oberon’s behavior as other than _pet_. Klunk is going to be furious when she realizes a large dog creature is following Mike around, and that little furball is definitely spunky.

Raph joins us in the living room; we’re ready. Titania explained where her base was, though she asked me to spare her Master. I made no promises and I think she knows we leave tonight with murder on our hearts. If nothing else, Raph is definitely going to hospitalize the bastard.

“Mike, let’s go,” I call. Oberon’s head comes up and he looks at us, rising to see over the couch. He takes in our armoring and weapons and tilts his head.

“Out?” he asks hopefully, following Mikey. It’s kind of funny to see the giant mutant dote on our little brother.

“No, Oberon,” Mike says gently. “You stay here.” Oberon whines and Mike reaches up to scratch behind his ears; Oberon’s eyes shut in ecstasy. He’s about one good scratch away from thumping his leg. “Be a good boy while I’m gone. I’ll be right back.” Oberon huffs and follows us to the door, then lies down in front of it, awkwardly crouched on his knees with his elbows on the ground, head propped on his hands. Mike shuts the door and turns away.

**Mike’s POV**

Leo leads us to one of our many entrances to the garage above ground. We use a different path every time, for security, and never plan ahead of time which one we’ll use. Once we’re above ground, we double-back a little, heading north and a little east, to get to the garage itself. I like the fresh air – it’s night again. We spent the whole day taking care of our guests, and I’m a little tired, but I’ve stayed awake longer for lesser causes than this.

I wonder if Titania’s sisters are like her. I like her name and it seems faintly familiar. I’m sure Don knows about it, but we are quiet as we run so I won’t ask him. We’re all focused on the upcoming rescue. I hope it stays a rescue, but the restrained anger in Raph’s posture means it’s not likely to stay that way. Not that I blame him or would stop him (if I could); this Master guy needs to die.

Our target is surprisingly close to the lair, within a couple of miles of the garage. It’s hard to think that mutants have been suffering here for… however long this Master dude’s been around. I wonder why we haven’t heard a whisper of his activities before. Usually our underground – not literally – contacts bring any sort of news to us, especially when it concerns mutants. They had told us about LH, after all, but then again, that big guy is really hard to miss.

We park a couple blocks away and Leo leads us onto the roofs. He points out the building we’ll be going into. It’s a posh house, almost a mansion, really. There’s a beautiful manicured lawn in front – who has the money for a lawn in New York City? – and the lawn and house are cut off from the regular folk by a tall black fence. It’s obviously supposed to keep people out, but there hasn’t been a fence made that we can’t out-fence. (See what I did there?) We are ninjas, after all.

Don looks through his super-binoculars. “All clear. There’s a couple human guards inside the main entrance,” he murmurs after a moment.

Leo motions for me; I’m idly twirling a nunchuck and tuck it away. “Yeah, bro?” I ask.

“You’re going to escort everyone out once we’ve found them,” Leo orders quietly. I protest, but he cuts me off. “We need to make sure the _rescue_ part of this mission happens, Mike. Can you do it?”

I wanted a piece of this Master guy but I nod. Then I perk up; that’ll give me first dibs on the hot cat chicks! Raph’s eyes narrow as I grin happily.

“Mike,” Don says, catching my eyes. He’s very serious and I try to match his look, but, hell, I’ve got the best job. “No flirting. They… They don’t understand modesty.”

“Hamato Michelangelo, if you try to sleep with one of them, so help me I will burn all of your comics,” Leo adds seriously. I can’t tell if he’s joking about the comics part.

I swallow and nod. “Okay, yeah, whatever you say.” I wasn’t planning on going _that_ far, I mean, we’ll just have rescued them from prostitution, but come on, a guy can dream, right? Seeing the look on Leo’s face, I swallow again. Apparently not.

**Don’s POV**

I wish Leo had put me in charge of the rescue portion, but I understand his reasoning. Mike’s very easy to get along with and very emotionally sensitive. He just acts goofy because he likes to. I suspect that our soon-to-be refugees will appreciate his gentleness.

“Make sure they get something to drink when you get them out,” I instruct him. “Then take them straight to the lair – we’ll walk back.” I glance at Leo; he nods in agreement. The most important thing here is getting everyone out safely.

This is it. I twirl my Bo and slip it into its sheath. My first job is going to be disabling their security system; I have my usual equipment in its purple duffle bag (Mike insists that anything I touch or use should be purple). It’ll be a snap.

Leo gives the signal and I run towards the fence with my brothers. I check it for electricity and shake my head; Raph quickly uses his brute strength to force a gap in the bars. Our hands are tough enough not to get scratched by the wire along the top, but we hope to bring five more frightened mutants though here.

Leo squeezes through the gap, shell scraping against the bars, and we’re through onto the lawn. The mansion is silent and the lawn is very soft under my feet. I wish I could enjoy the feeling of grass – it’s not often we get to stand in it – but we run for the main entrance. I spot a camera and point it out to Raph, who sends a shuriken through it. Any cameras we see are summarily destroyed before they can catch up.

We’re at the main door. I ignore my surroundings – my brothers have my back – and focus on the key pad next to it. I quickly pry off the case and plug into it.


	6. Rescue

**Leo’s POV**

The house is silent and faintly sinister behind me; I’m watching the lawn. Don is working to disable the security system before we open the main door. Raph’s keeping an eye on the interior through the window in the door, though it’s so dark he’ll have issues seeing inside. Mike stands next to me, looking further out – he watches the driveway and streets, the houses looking at us. I feel incredibly exposed.

“Got it,” Don mutters, zipping his duffle again. Raph kicks in the door, surprising the two human guards. Don raps one on the skull with his Bo; that one is unconscious. Raph punches the other and he crumples, too.

We look around the foyer; there’s a grand staircase right in front of us. Doors lead off to the right and left, and there’s one to the left of the staircase. Titania had never been “downstairs;” we would find her fellows on the second and third stories.

I motion for my brothers to be quiet and we sneak up the stairs. They don’t creak or groan; they’re well maintained. The carpet under my feet is soft and clean, the banister is smooth and appears unmarked by use. The entire house feels like it’s a façade and it makes me nervous.

On the landing to the third floor, I spot the vase Titania had mentioned. We must be in the west wing, then. Aemilia and Hermia live here. They should be in the hallway to my right.

I lead the way, motioning for Raph to guard our backs. The hallway is short; we won’t leave each other’s sights. I open the first door on the right and the lights in the room snap on automatically. The light makes me wince and makes the figure lying on the bed sit bolt upright, hissing in fear.

This is Aemilia. Her blue-grey fur covers most of her body, mostly cat fur but curly dog fur around her ears and at the end of her short tail, where it is groomed into a poof. Unlike her cat sister, Aemilia’s ears hang down along her head, though right now she’s pricked them towards us. Like Titania, she has six breasts, but she is three inches taller, nearly Mikey’s height. Her dark brown eyes are large in the light as my brothers and I are revealed.

“Aemilia, come with us,” I call softly. “Titania sent us.”

“Titania?” Aemilia’s voice is a little harsher than Titania’s cultured purr.

“She sent us to rescue you,” Don adds gently, stepping into the room. I need to find Hermia so I motion for Mike to follow me while Don reassures the scared mutant.

We open the next door with the same result, although this time we are faced with Hermia, who Titania warned me is aggressive when startled (well… she was trying to say that, anyway). With a deep snarl, Hermia launches forward, her mismatched blue and brown eyes blazing. Her plumy tail is stiff; her ears are cropped and her teeth filed down, so when she clamps her jaw around my arm, I only feel blunt pressure instead of ripping canines. Still, it surprises Mike enough that he yelps.

“Hermia, it’s okay, we’re friends,” I whisper urgently, not moving and letting the mutant try to chew through my tough hide. She can’t and she stills as she realizes I’m not fighting her. “Titania sent us; we’re here to rescue you.”

Hermia releases my arm and licks the spot she bit; I try not to jerk away in surprise. Nervously, she backs up and looks us over. “Are you… turtles?”

I nod. “It’s a long story. Let’s go, we’ll tell it later.”

“Titania sent you?” She’s still not sure. The time it will take to reassure her isn’t something we can waste.

“We found her and Oberon; we took them to our home. They’re there now, safe. Titania told me how to find you.”

“How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

Mike and I both blink. That is something we never thought about. We just assumed the others would be as eager to flee their conditions as Titania had been. But then again, they aren’t pregnant and don’t know that life can get better than this.

**Mike’s POV**

I can feel the tension radiating from this dog woman. She’s cute, with white fur that looks gloriously soft and two different eyes. I like the blue and brown; it’s cute, too. Her tail is a little crooked, but it adds real charm to her. Leo’s arm isn’t bleeding, so I assume her teeth are more rounded than canine fangs. She’s just about my height, too.

I step forward and smile, holding out a hand. I’m not sure if she’s going to shake it or sniff it, but I let her decide that one. “I’m Mikey,” I say. “Oberon likes me.”

That startles a short bark of laughter from the dog woman. “Oberon likes anyone,” she chuckles. Her eyes are interesting when she looks between us; the blue seems to cool into an icy tone and the brown deepens. “How do I know you’re not Master’s test of my loyalty?”

“Right, because your Master would send four _ninja turtles_ to test you,” Raph growls from behind Leo. I glance back; Aemilia is standing next to Don, gripping his hand. _Lucky bastard!_ He always gets to hold their hands. That’s it! I’m gonna hold _two_ hands on our way to the lair.

“Aemilia?” Hermia says uncertainly, spotting her sister.

Aemilia shrinks back a little; I notice with a sly smirk that it’s _towards_ Don and not _away from_ him. “They… They seem nice… He smells like Titania.” She gestures to Don.

Raph, Leo, and I almost snap our necks to look at Don. He squeaks, shaking his head quickly. “It’s not like that!” he insists quickly. “She made the move, I didn’t touch – shut up Raph!” Our hothead brother’s smirk is growing wider by the word that tumbles from Don’s mouth.

“We don’t have time for this,” Leo hisses. Raph rolls his eyes but we’re all agreed.

“We’ll take you to a safe place and explain everything there,” I promise Hermia, turning back to the dog woman. She sighs but nods. If nothing else, I sense that she doesn’t want to leave Hermia. She follows us out of the room and I hold out my hand again. She looks at it, looks at me, and then brushes past me to follow Raph.

Of all the turtle luck, I _would_ have to approach the only one of these mutants who doesn’t want to hold my hand. I’m so killing Donnie.

**Raph’s POV**

The dog and cat/dog hybrid mutants follow us quietly enough. Leo apparently got some clues from Titania, but Aemilia confirms the directions. She points out Hippolyta’s door and I open it.

I immediately have to fight down a surge of anger; there’s a human in the room, and he’s completely naked. It’s pretty clear what he’s planning on doing, based on the position of the black-furred cat woman on the bed in front of him. She’s tied down but not fighting; her head jerks to the door when I open it.

I tackle the human and knock him out quickly. Then, even though I really _hate_ him for using a mutant as a sex toy, I drag a blanket over him to cover him up. Done, I check on the chick.

Hermia is talking quietly to her, I think. She’s muttering, at least. Don releases the straps that hold Hippolyta to the bed and she sits up. Now _this_ is my kind of chick!

She’s got a thicker build than her sisters and there’s at least some meat on those hips. Her black fur is spotless and shines in the room’s light. Instead of six breasts, she has four; two prominent ones up top and two smaller ones below. The top pair are at _least_ a size D and only lightly furred. The room is a little chilly, making them perky, too.

I tear my eyes away, conscious of my honor if she doesn’t seem to take her nakedness into consideration. Don is checking her wrists and ankles, but nods; there’s no damage to her skin.

“Huh. Prissy Miss Tits got out?” Hippolyta growls, stretching her arms above her head and arching her back. Holy _fuck_ is it sexy. She meets my eyes and smirks a bit as I quickly cover them with a hand, turning to look at the door where Leo is watching us and trying to make ‘hurry up!’ motions with one hand.

“Um… We rescued Titania and Oberon, yes,” Don replies, trying not to stare as well. He’s shading his eyes as he tries to back up, but Ameilia is still holding his hand and she’s staying next to her sister.

“Never fucked a turtle.”

I’m at least 90% sure Fearless had a heart attack at her declaration. My own heart is really loud. Mikey’s jaw just drops, like in the movies.

Don’s the closest target and the woman hooks her right leg around his shell, dragging him towards her. He can’t even resist, he’s so shocked. She holds them together, examining his plastron and apparently unconcerned that the rest of us are there.

“We… We have to go,” Leo says. His voice cracks a little and he’s licked his lips at least _twice_ trying to say that. Some Fearless Leader.

Hippolyta flaps a hand at him. She looks exactly like I do when I’m telling Fearless to take a hike as she continues her inspection of Don’s chest and face. She leans forward and kisses him firmly on the mouth.

“Hey,” Mikey whines quietly. “I wanted to get the first kiss.” He pouts. Were I closer – and not mesmerized by that vixen – I would cuff him.

Don finally seems to realize what’s happening and jumps away, releasing Aemilia’s hand and wrenching himself out of Hippolyta’s legs. She lets him go.

“He does smell like Titania,” she says, apparently agreeing with something Hermia told him.

Don blushes an even darker green and takes several calming breaths. I like this chick. She ain’t afraid of anything, it seems. She hops up – and her boobs bounce beautifully – and heads for the doorway.

When the rest of us don’t follow, she looks back, locking eyes with me.

“Let’s go, sweetheart.” She smirks and blows me a kiss, turning away and heading out of the door.

Oh, it is _on_.

**Leo’s POV**

Never before has our utter lack of sexual experience been so apparent. Poor Donnie looks like he’s going to have a panic attack. Mike is moping about Don’s first kiss. Raph’s eyes are dangerously smoldering as the woman passes me and heads into the hall.

“Let’s go,” I order, forcing myself to sound calm and collected. I can tell it doesn’t fool my brothers, but Raph apparently has more on his mind than challenging me because he’s already after the black mutant.

“Lysander next,” I suggest to Aemilia, who smiles. She picks up Don’s hand again and leads the way; Don follows her dazedly.

We find the parrot mutant in a bigger-than-life-size bird cage. He’s hunkered down, chin tucked into his armpit, clawed feet wrapped securely around a 4x4 beam that rests a few feet off the ground. As we open the door, his eyes open and he ruffles his feathers. The lights come on, revealing the mutant’s brilliant coloring. His front is golden yellow, except for the white and black striped feathers on his face. I was prepared for a human face, not for an out-thrust beak that looks dangerously thick. The beak pushes his eyes aside; I bet he has a blind spot right in front of him, since he turns his head sideways to look at the doorway.

Instead of arms he has wings that look too small to do much other than look pretty. Hanging below him, brushing the floor, is a long tail that is yellow on the side facing us. His feathers turn green just above his eyes before fading to blue on his back and rear. He’s short, half-way between four and fight feet tall from feet to crown if I had to guess, but his tail is at least four feet long. Overall, other than his size and obvious intelligence, he looks like a parrot with stunted wings.

“Aemilia? What are you doing here?” he asks, squawking when Don steps in, too. His wings beat in confusion and fear as he screeches. I can see that his tongue is black and thin.

The sound of someone yelling a question makes me rush forward and grab the bird mutant, clapping my hand over his beak and forcing it shut. “Shhh,” I whisper as he kicks. He’s very light and feels fragile; I hope I’m not hurting him.

“What’s your problem, Lysander?” another mutant snarls from another room, opening the door. I gesture to Raph; he slams it shut on the intruder. “Lysander!” The other mutant is apparently Egeus; he is silent for a brief second and then howls loudly and angrily.

Titania had warned me that Egeus would not be far from her human Master, so I conclude that the room Raph is blocking off must be his. I look at Lysander, trembling in my grip. “I’m going to release you; please be quiet. We’re rescuing you.”

“But…” He looks at Aemilia, who is smiling and holds out a hand. Then he spots Hermia and Hippolyta beyond her. “You’re all leaving?” he asks in a hushed voice, fluttering his wings and shifting from clawed foot to clawed foot.

“Hell yeah,” Hippolyta chuckles. “Feel like an adventure.”

“They have Titania and Oberon. Oberon likes them,” Aemilia adds.

“That mutt likes everyone,” Lysander sighs. He ruffles his feathers and thinks for a moment before nodding. He doesn’t quite walk but hops two-footed over to Aemilia. She scratches his head and he leans into the motion.

**Raph’s POV**

Whatever, whoever, is trying to force the door open isn’t very strong. I lean against it, listening to the ruckus on the other side. This must the only exit because they haven’t left the room beyond it.

I glance over; Aemilia seems to be calming the parrot guy. Lysander, I think he’s called.

“Mike, take them to the truck,” Leo orders. Mike nods and motions for the frightened mutants to follow him, leaving Don, Fearless, and I to find Egeus – who is probably the one howling on the other side of the door, will he not _shut up?_ – and kill the Master.

Leo nods; I let the door swing out. Immediately, a small whirlwind of fur launches itself out, snarling in anger. Egeus has brown-white fur with brown patches around his eyes and ears, which are a little further from the tip of his head than the cats’ and look too big for him. His tail is thick and short, held stiffly up as he snarls at Leo and Don; he hasn’t noticed me yet. He’s got green eyes that radiate anger.

Behind him comes a snapped command; Egeus flinches and then steps to the side, still growling softly. A human walks through the door, eyes glued to my brothers. Neither of the strangers notice me; I’m feeling a little left out.

**Leo’s POV**

The human makes my skin crawl. He looks over Don and I coolly, as though we are cuts of meat he is choosing at a butcher shop. Egeus is still growling softly at us, but backs up as the Master snaps his fingers at him.

“I have never considered attempting a terrapin cross,” the man murmurs. His eyes flicker to my bandana and unsheathed katanas. “I find that mammals make the best mutants. Who created you?”

“None o’ ya business,” Raph growls. Egeus immediately leaps between my brother and the human, hackles raised and fangs bared. Raph twirls his sai but waits for now.

“I assume, then, you have found Titania and Oberon?” the human asks me, ignoring Raph behind him. “I would be interested in retrieving them. I could provide you with a good life here, in return. There would be no need for… injuries.” His eyes look significantly at the chip in my upper plastron where a Foot ninja had tried to sever my arm with my own sword.

Don snorts expressively. He looks at Egeus, ignoring the human in the room. “Egeus, Titania told me about you.” Egeus flicks his gaze to Don and then back to Raph. “She told me you like belly rubs and chasing sticks and tug of war with toys.” The dog mutant flattens his ears back as if to shut out his voice.

“I breed my guards for loyalty, turtle. You will not turn Egeus.”

“Titania turned Oberon,” Raph points out.

“Yes, well, Titania will be dealt with. She had such promise; such a perfect breed. Elegant conformity, flexible, pleasant conversationalist…” The human smiles, but it is not a happy expression. “I allowed her life to continue past when I would typically switch out pleasurers because she entertained me. And of course, who wouldn’t enjoy her tight-”

Raph drowns out the rest with a roar, attacking. I leap into action, too, aiming for the human. Egeus moved to intercept my hotheaded brother, leaving his Master undefended.

I slash towards the human’s throat, hoping to put an end to this quickly. Egeus, spying my intentions, howls and breaks away from Raph, throwing himself at me. Unable to stop the stroke, my blade slices into his chest and he yelps in pain. I drop the sword and him; both fall. Blood’s already spreading on the floor.

The human master flees towards his room but Raph intercepts him. One quick punch and the human is unconscious.

It’s all over in a matter of seconds. I kneel next to Egeus as the dog-man whines and pants with pain. Don suddenly slides down next to me, inspecting the wound. He looks up at me and shakes his head; I nod in understanding.

“Why’d you protect that filth?” Raph demanded of the dog-man. I can tell he is fighting his own tears.

Egeus bares his fangs and tries to bite Don, but the sword hampers his movement and his teeth close on empty air. The movement tears something internal and blood cascades forth, soaking my kneepads before I can get out of the way.

Don glances at Raph in warning and positions himself where Egeus can’t bite him. “You did it, boy,” he murmurs, stroking Egeus’s head and ruffling his ears. Egeus whines, confused. “You protected him. Good boy. _Good boy_.”

I realize that Don is trying to ease the mutant’s passing and glare at Raph when he starts to speak. Egeus shudders in pain and his eyes close; there’s a faint smile on his lips, though.

“Good boy,” the dog-man sighs, shivering in pain. Then he falls limp and a moan escapes him. He doesn’t breathe in again.

“Alright, let’s go,” Don mutters, dashing away tears and standing up. I gently remove my sword and wipe it clean on one of the newspapers in what is clearly supposed to be a toilet corner. The newspapers are fresh and I use a handful to wipe the worst of the blood from my hands, knees, and legs as Don does the same. Raph hovers over the human as if waiting for him to wake up.

I know what we have to do, but it sickens me. Murdering a defenseless, unconscious enemy isn’t honorable. But neither is leaving him to do all of this again. I have to make the choice, and I have to choose the lesser of two evils. Left alive, this crazed human could destroy hundreds of lives, animal, mutant, and human.

Raph moves aside to let me look at the human. He doesn’t look odd or even particularly evil; his brown hair is a little curlier than wavy, his skin is a pleasant tanned white. He’s wearing sleeping clothes, elegant silk pajamas with a button-up shirt. Human females probably think he is handsome.

“I can do it,” Raph says quietly. I know he is offering both because he wants to destroy this creature himself and to save me the heartache, but I shake my head.

“Can I borrow your knife?” I ask. My swords have already been bloodied today, and with the blood of one mutant we had hoped to save. Raph presses it into my hand silently.

“ _For my father, for my brothers, for our sisters, for all the other mutants you have tortured and hurt and killed_ ,” I say quietly in Japanese as I kneel in front of the human’s limp form, “ _I, Hamato Leonardo, Genin of the Hamato clan, sentence you, nameless Master, to a dishonorable death._ ” With a quick movement, I jab the knife into the human’s heart, twisting to ensure the death is quick, and remove it. I clean it on a spare newspaper and hand it back to Raph, who nods with approval.

“Let’s go,” I say gruffly.

**Don’s POV**

Leo looks a little tortured but I know he knows he made the right choice. However, I wish we had been able to save Egeus; if nothing else, he did not deserve to die protecting the human who had been so cruel to him. He looks very small and fragile when I lean over and close his eyes.

I follow Raph and Leo out of the mansion; we haven’t heard any human guards raising an uproar for whatever reason. I’m grateful that this Master seemed to be so confident that he only had the one mutant guarding him, though. None of us are up to a long fight or up to trying to lose pursuit along the rooftops of the city.

I hope Mike and the others are already home. All of the mutants, with the exception of Hippolyta, looked thin, and even she was only slightly bulkier. Leo leads us to an entrance to the sewer several blocks from the mansion and we travel the rest of the way underground, automatically taking side-tunnels and obscuring our tracks by doubling back. As a result, it’s nearly an hour before we open the door to the lair.

It’s calm inside. Titania and her sisters are sitting on the couches in the living room, talking quietly but earnestly. Well, Titania is talking and the others are listening. Their ears seems to indicate that they are a little confused, but they’re going to be confused for a while, so that’s okay. All have bowls of soup in their hands.

Lysander is shifting back and forth uncomfortably, watching Mike. My youngest brother appears to be trying to make him a roost like we had seen in his… cage.

“Need some help?” I offer, stepping forward to pick up the other end of the beam Mikey is trying to maneuver.

Mike grins easily, nodding in thanks. “Figured it’d be nicer than having to drag his tail around,” he explains. Lysander flutters his wings a bit in cautious agreement.

We set the beam across a couple of stacked boxes. It’s a little higher than my chest and Lysander hops up immediately, almost smacking Mikey with his wing when he flaps them for a little extra boost. He settles down and curls his clawed toes around the sides of the beam.

“Have you eaten yet?” I ask Lysander. The bird-man turns his head and peers closely at me; he may have some vision difficulties. I plan on doing a full check up on all of them, so I will ask then.

“Yes,” he finally says quietly. His beak clicks a little and I notice a spot of soup on the side of it. He seems to notice it at the same time, ducking his head and pulling up one foot to rub it off. His ‘knees’ bend opposite the way ours do – they’re actually ankle bones, of course. In fact, other than his intelligence and a slight lengthening of his body, he could be an oversized bird and not a mutant at all.

“Do you need anything?” I try to keep my voice soft and gentle. These poor mutants have been through a lot today.

Lysander turns his head the other way, peering at me with the other eye. His eyes are a little disconcerting, black pupils in an off-white field without any sort of color. Then again, the cat mutants have slit pupils. “No, thank you,” he finally says. “Is Egeus…?”

I nod sadly, looking down. To my surprise, Lysander reaches out a clawed foot, curls one toe, and uses it to gently lift my head to look up at him again. He leans a little closer. “He would have wanted it that way.” Lysander sighs quietly, tucking his foot back underneath his body.

“Why…” I choke, unable to articulate myself. Why had that human done this? Why had he been so cruel? Why hadn’t Egeus rebelled? I rub a tear away from my eye.

Lysander seems to know what I’m trying to ask and tilts his head the other way, ruffling his feathers. He lifts one foot and resettles it. “Because he just wanted to be a human again,” Lysander says after a moment. “Simpler, that way.” I look up, eyes wide. “He was never… happy… with his mutation.”

“He was a human?”

Lysander nods, switching eyes to look at me. It must be strange to have a blind spot right in front of you. “Master’s first human-animal hybrid that began with a human. It was not successful; Egeus would have died soon anyway.”

“Are there others?” I ask, scared that we had left someone behind.

Lysander waves his head back and forth, which seems to be a negative. “There are only the growth pods, and they will not survive without Master to tend them.” He clacks his beak. “Master is… was… jealous of his methods; he never took an apprentice.”

I am relieved and sigh. “I’ll let you get some sleep, then.” Looking around, I realize that we have a rooming problem. I go to find Leo.


	7. Sensei Leo

**Mike’s POV**

Lysander and Don are talking quietly, Titania’s got the other chicks clustered around her, and I’m left to just watch. At least Oberon was happy to see me when we arrived. He had pounced and licked me again before running to the newly rescued mutants and enthusiastically hugging each one, giving them sloppy kisses, too.

Raph’s disappeared into the dojo already and I can hear his music thumping as he beats up whatever poor sand bag is patched up this week. We’re going to have to get a new one soon; they’re all more patches than original fabric at this point. Not that Raph’s really helping with that right now.

Leo comes out of Master Splinter’s room. I bet our father’s hiding in there until the three cats in the living room are a little more in control of themselves. I’m glad he had been out of sight when we had come in; I had made sure to open the door slowly and check.

“Hey, Leo.” Mike and I turn to Don, who gestures for us – well, for Leo, but I’ll tag along and pretend he meant for me, too – to follow him into the kitchen.

“We have a room problem,” Don says, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the ice-cold pot sitting in the coffee maker. He sips it and grimaces, but downs the rest without complaint. Nasty.

“We will have to open the unused wing,” Leo murmurs. We had closed down that wing and sealed it to avoid having to clean the place. We’re more comfortable living in closer quarters, but there are only seven bedrooms – including Don’s lab, which he won’t give up easily – and now eleven mutants. (Holy crap, _eleven_! And four of them are bodacious babes!)

Don nods and I smack my hands loudly as if dusting them off. “Time to get to work, then,” I say cheerfully.

Don groans a bit and sets his head on the table. “Mikey, where _do_ you get your energy?” he whines.

“From the universe, dude!” Leo snorts with laughter. I can even heard Don’s tired chuckle. “Besides, you stay up longer on your weird little doo-hickeys.”

“Inventions,” Don corrects me. I shrug; they’re doo-hickeys to me. Thingamajigs are what I call his _finished_ ones. “And I cat-nap while tinkering.”

“Get some rest,” Leo tells our bro kindly. “Mike and I will take care of it.” I know Leo’s tired, too, but he looks a little fresher than Don, at least. And I don’t think I could get it all done myself.

“We could make Raph help us,” I suggest, grinning.

Leo shoots me a look that tells me he’s too tired to fight with our resident ticking time bomb of turtle temper. We head for the back wall of the lair and he pushes in the appropriate brick. Slowly, the wall slides apart and opens.

“Woah,” Hippolyta says loudly as the extra wing is revealed. I look at the couches; the four (sexy as hell) girls are watching us.

“We’re making up your rooms,” I explain, grinning. “Wanna pick ‘em out?”

The four chicks share glances. “I believe they mean to give us a choice,” Titania says quietly to her sisters.

Well, yeah… That was the idea.

“I get the big one!” Hippolyta chirps, hopping up. Her chest bounces and it’s wonderful. None of them have taken up Don’s offer of April’s clothing so I can see _everything_. She zips past me even as Titania growls loudly and chases her.

“I am the eldest, Hippolyta. I get the largest of the rooms,” she argues, ears pinned back.

“Leo’s the eldest and he has the smallest room,” I add helpfully. Titania bares her fangs at me – it’s scary _and_ sexy. Scarexy?

Leo looks at me, frustrated. I was trying to help!

**Leo’s POV**

Mikey, being Mikey, is impossible to stay mad at. Still, I’m tired and I was hoping to get this done quickly and with a minimum of fuss.

A yowl draws my attention quickly to one of the rooms. The door is open and I can see Titania and Hippolyta rolling around, scratching at each other. “Stop!” I order, jumping forward. I grab Titania and pull her out of Hippolyta’s reach; she fights, turning in my grip. It’s hard to hold onto her sleek frame without hurting her. She claws at my chest, claws scratching against my plastron.

Raph’s immediately next into the room and he jumps on Hippolyta, bearing her to the ground when she goes to attack Titania again. He pins her underneath him and she yowls furiously as she tries to wiggle out from under him.

“Enough!” Master Splinter barks from the doorway. His fur is entirely puffed up with the scent of _four_ cats now in our lair. Still, the tone in his voice makes Titania pause and even Hippolyta stops yowling, though she’s still struggling against Raph.

As I look up from protecting my skin from Titania’s claws, I realize why Raph’s in the room instead of Mike; my youngest brother is holding Oberon back from attacking one or both of the feline mutants. Don comes running out of the kitchen towards us, drawn by Master Splinter’s voice.

“There will be order in this house, Ms. Titania, Ms. Hippolyta,” Master Splinter says quietly. “Room assignments can be made randomly if you cannot manage to decide upon a room civilly.” Raph and I release our guests cautiously, but they immediately kneel and do the face-to-floor thing again.

“You are forgiven,” Master Splinter says kindly, walking carefully to first Titania and then to Hippolyta and drawing them gently to their feet. Hippolyta’s brow is scratched but not bleeding badly. Titania nibbles on a broken claw, chewing off the broken bit.

“We must establish rules in order to live peacefully together,” Master Splinter continues. I notice that Lysander has hopped closer, observing everyone with one eye. Aemilia and Hermia are standing behind him; Don’s behind them.

“First of all, there will be no fighting while within our home,” Sensei continues. He waits for confirmation; the four ladies and parrot man agree quietly. Oberon barks happily, tail wagging as Mikey scratches his head. “Next, there will be no… relationships… between anyone. Internal strife will do what the outside world has not managed and will cause division in our family.” I can see the four women tilt their heads in confusion.

“He means no sexual activity,” Don clarifies, blushing.

“Then…” Aemilia looks at my brother. “Why did you bring us here?”

I blink in astonishment. Surely she didn’t think we would rescue her from that horrible place only to force them to continue their prostitution for us! Even Raph looks a little disgusted at the idea, though he’s mostly keeping an eye on Hippolyta to make sure she doesn’t try anything again. Of the new mutants, I sense that the black-furred one is the most temperamental, though Titania’s pride is also worrisome.

“So that you may heal in safety and comfort,” Master Splinter replies calmly. “We have opened our homes to mutants less fortunate than ourselves before and, should you choose to stay here, we would gladly share all we have.”

“What shall we do?” Titania asks quietly. I guess if prostitution is all you know, it’d be kind of hard to figure out what to do with yourself, considering all the free time they’re about to have. The first couple of days might be okay as they recover and get themselves settled. After that, they’ll need to think of things to do. A bored Hippolyta will probably turn into a bored Raph, which means picking fights. And while Oberon seems content to laze around Mikey’s feet and get scratched, the four ladies seem more intelligent and will need distractions.

“Well, first off, you’re going to sleep for a while,” Mikey chuckles. “And eat a whole lot.”

“And I will be checking each of you for any medical issues,” Don adds. He looks at Titania significantly; she dips her head in agreement.

“I’ll show you my video game collection!” Mikey interrupts. “ _One_ of you must like to play games!” The four women are silent, but Hermia smiles a little at his enthusiasm.

“We will teach you how to resist ever being made… slaves… again,” Master Splinter says quietly. I look at him in shock; he means to train these mutants in ninjutsu? He looks at me and shakes his head with a faint smile. “I will not be training them in ninjutsu, Leonardo,” he says. I relax slightly. “You will.”

Wait, what?!

**Raph’s POV**

I snicker at the look on Leo’s face. He looks completely poleaxed, staring at Master Splinter like our sensei’s growing horns or something.

“Yeah, Fearless,” I say, unable to help myself. “Ya got six new recruits.” All of the new mutants looking between us in confusion. Except Oberon; that doofus is kneeling next to my bro, has his eyes closed, and is drooling on Mikey’s feet, who doesn’t seem to notice.

“But… Sensei…”

Master Splinter shakes his head again, gently. “I am too old to begin training a new set of daughters, if they wish to be called such, my son. You must truly fulfill your role as _chunin_ and train your newest clan members.” He nods to Titania and her group.

“Hai, Sensei.” Leo bows. Kiss ass.

“Father,” Master Splinter corrects, smiling.

“Sensei,” Mike laughs, bowing to Leo. He’s grinning big as he straightens. Don copies him, murmuring the honorific, and they both look at me expectantly.

“Aw, shit…” I growl.

“Raph! Language!” Leo snaps. This, at least, is familiar for both of us. But I feel Master Splinter watching me and stiffly bow.

“Hai… Sensei,” I grumble. Sure, I’m happy for Leo and whatnot, but I don’t have to bow and scrape to my big brother!

**Don’s POV**

I was worried that Splinter would take on training our new guests himself. He wouldn’t have been able to keep up; he struggles through his days as it is, and that’s with anti-inflammatories and a warm compress whenever he wants it.

I’m happy that Leo’s going to do it instead, but I notice that he’s worried and a little scared of the idea. I wink at him, offering silent support. He smiles, relief easing some of his tenseness.

“For now, however, our guests must rest and allow Donatello to examine them,” Master Splinter continues once this newest little drama has ended. He looks at each of the ladies in turn, then meets Lysander’s eye. “I hope you will come to see us as your new family, my children, and come to see my sons as your brothers.”

Lysander fluffs his wings and hops in place. Aemilia and Hermia share a glance, confusion obvious in their faces. Hippolyta glares at Raph as if daring him to call her ‘sister.’ Titania is ignoring everyone, apparently, washing her hand calmly.

Master Splinter walks out of the new wing and into the kitchen to prepare tea; everyone lets out a little sigh and glances around at each other. I’m not sure how easy this is going to be, living so closely, at least until we teach the women some modesty and figure out how to undo their conditioning. Oberon is the happiest person in the room; his innocent pleasure in Mike’s head scratches is adorable and heart-soothing.

I leave the wing to get my lab set up for check-ups for everyone. So long as I am doing them, I might as well include Master Splinter and my brothers; their time is coming soon anyway. I keep medical files on everyone, including myself; I will have to make several new ones. And I’ll need a new classification – _Animal Base._ Especially if mutants keep falling into our laps.

**Mike’s POV**

We get the rooms sorted out by random lottery; Aemilia ends up getting the largest room, though there really isn’t a difference between them. She tries to offer it to Titania, but the queen cat ignores the gesture and stalks into her new room. Titania’s pricklier than a cactus.

Leo and I hand out the sheets; the chicks are clearly used to doing some cleaning and soon have their rooms cleaned up and livable. Aside from a bed in each room, though, the furniture is sparse. We’ll have to make a few dump runs to get everything put together nicely.

Lysander is surprisingly helpful even without hands. He chides the women along easily, intervening before Titania and Hippolyta can clash over the smallest things. For short distances, he can carry things in one surprisingly flexible foot. Leo and I remove the bed from his room since he doesn’t need one; he roosts upright, just like a bird, for the most part. Aemilia tells me that he does sleep more deeply in nest-like structures, if we can provide one; Lysander hems and haws when I ask what he’d like to nest in. We finally settle on a big pile of sheets and blankets, set against the back wall, and Lysander is more than happy with the fluffy “nest.”

Also, his beak is freaky strong and he chips a window into his room through the brick as Leo and I reassemble his perch in his room. It’s a small window and only shows the small family room onto which all the rooms open, but he seems to like it and preens happily once on his roost. I take the door off of the room and hang a heavy blanket as a curtain instead, since that will let him come and go without trying to turn a knob.

I see Hippolyta yawning and she disappears into her new room; I close the door for her as she falls into the bed. Titania is next to close her door, though her tail is still twitching angrily and her ears aren’t yet fully upright. Aemilia helps me sweep and dust the outer room before exhaustion makes her eyes start drifting closed and I steer her to her own bed. I notice that they all sleep on top of the covers, but that’s a lesson for a different day.

“Oberon, time for bed,” I tell the big dog-man, who is lying stretched out along the boundary between the main lair and the new wing. He whuffs excitedly and stands up, body wiggling with delight. I open the door to his room and, for some reason, his ears come down and he whines softly. “Come on, bed time,” I coo encouragingly, walking side. Oberon follows me in and goes to his spot on the floor, curling up with his knees tucked into his chest.

“Don’t you want to be on the bed?” I suggest kindly, patting the warm, soft bed. But Oberon looks at it, unsure, and then shakes his head.

“Bad dog on furniture,” he explains quietly. He licks his nose several times, but I’m not sure what to make of that.

“Well, I guess as long as you’re comfy…” I pull the blanket off the bed and drape it over him, patting his head. His tail wags a bit but I sense he’s still unhappy. Maybe he’s just tired?

“Good night, Oberon!” I close the door gently and go to find my own bed. This has been one weird day! First Titania and Oberon, now the rest of them. Finding out that some human had decided, ‘Hey, I can make mutants! And instead of treating them nicely, I’ll make them be sex toys! ‘Cause I’m _clearly_ sane and all that!’ Yeah…

I’m glad Leo had me escort the women and Lysander back to the lair instead of having to deal with the human Master guy. And it hasn’t escaped my notice that Titania had mentioned Egeus, apparently a dog-man like Oberon but smaller, never came back with the rest of my brothers. That probably means he was either dead when we got there or died trying to protect that Master scum. I hope it was the former, since otherwise one of my brothers had to kill a mutant who was just doing what he thought was right.

These kinds of heavy thoughts are _not_ good for sleep, so I open up a comic book for some light reading until the pages swim and my eyes keep sliding shut. Klunk curls up on my shoulder when I roll onto my plastron and finally drift off.


	8. A Rocky Start

**Leo’s POV**

Master Splinter – no, Father, he wants us to call him Father now – has given me the task of training two cats, a cat/dog hybrid, two dogs, and a parrot ninjutsu. It reads like one of his stories on daytime TV.

He’s been training me for this moment my entire life. Still, we both expected that I would take over the clan consisting of my brothers and him. Not one made up of eleven mutants and two vastly different groups.

Our new guests are too tired, weak, and confused to begin training this morning, so we will start with making them comfortable. I pull my favorite mug from the cupboard as the tea kettle begins to pipe its teasing song. Filling my mug with tea and then pouring in the water, I consider our priorities.

Number 1: Get them clothing. Lysander is feathered and covered, but the other five need something, at least. Even if just a loin cloth for Oberon. We’ll ask April to pick up a variety of clothing. I’d better tell her to get soft, clean items from her usual targets – thrift shops. I don’t think Titania, at least, will wear anything tatty.

Number 2: Get them medical check-ups, especially Titania. I don’t know if she’s yet told her sisters about her condition, but I won’t push it. Don will stay inside today to handle that.

Number 3: Give them more than basic comforts. If they’re going to have clothing, they’ll need a dresser or clothing rack or something. Raph and Mike and I will have to do some heavy hauling from the dump; maybe we’ll wait for night to truly fall and take the truck.

Number 4: Set down a list of rules beyond what Master Splinter – ugh, _Father_ – already put down.

Don comes into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes from sleep. “Hey, Leo. Sensei.” He jerks into a stiff bow and I chuckle, flipping the coffee pot.

“Let’s not let this get in the way of our friendship,” I ask him softly. He knows I’ve always been afraid of taking over this position precisely because it might ruin my relationships with my brothers. I’ve talked to him about it before.

“Sure thing, Leo.” He digs in the fridge for his cream. “We need supplies soon.”

I nod and explain my ideas for the day. “Do you have any idea when Titania…?” I don’t want to say it aloud in case one of her sharp-eared sisters is around.

Don shakes his head and grins ruefully. “There really isn’t a manual for this sort of thing. I’ll be looking at both feline and human… details… but it could be practically anything in between.”

“What’s the chance they survive?” I ask after a long moment of quiet. Don’s coffee pot starts dripping, gurgling cheerfully.

Don chews his tongue in thought. “Well… Until I examine her, I have no idea. Cats and humans have been doing this for millennia, remember. She could be just fine. Or she could die.” I flinch a bit. It would be horrible to save Titania only to lose her to her pregnancy.

Mike stumbles in, muttering about bacon. He peers at both of us, grins in greeting, and digs into the fridge. “How much should I make?” he asks Don, except that he’s squinting at me. It takes a while for his eyes to wake up.

“Make a little for each of the predators,” Don says finally. “But soup will be better for their stomachs for now. Does Lysander like the soup?”

“He didn’t complain,” Mike responds, turning back to the fridge. “I don’t think we have bird seed around here.”

“I have never tried bird seed,” Lysander says from the doorway, fixing all of us with one of his eyes. His feathers are a little ruffled from sleep.

Mike jumps and grins at him sheepishly. “Sorry, dude. Trying to figure out what you want to eat. What sounds good?”

**Lysander’s POV**

Though Titania has explained some of what our new hosts are like, I am unprepared for the warmth in Michelangelo’s voice as he lists what seems like everything in the fridge. Then he looks at me, clearly expecting something.

I fluff my wings a bit, buying time to think. “We have always eaten what the humans did not care for,” I explain when Michelangelo looks to Leonardo, confused by my action. All three of the turtle brothers wince, expressing sympathy to my apparent plight.

“Are you intolerant of any foods?” Donatello asks. That is an excellent way to begin and I bob my body up and down in a nod. The motion seems to entertain Michelangelo, who grins.

“I do not digest highly processed foods well,” I explain. “I typically choose the fruits and vegetables from the table. The sisters are partial to meats and vegetables tend to cause them gastric distress.” Donatello is nodding along with me; he seems to be making mental notes. I switch eyes. “Oberon will eat anything. But he is allergic to chocolate, we found once; he nearly died from ingesting a leftover piece of cake. As was Egeus.” I mourn my friend’s death but I know, as I have explained to Donatello, that it is for the best. He would never have adjusted to our new situation. “Hermia may not have chocolate, either. Aemilia is allergic to tree nuts, but not terribly so.”

“Nut allergy? Is that from her human part?” Donatello asks curiously.

I shrug my wings. “We were never informed if so. She simply discovered this after eating a peanut-crusted beef side and was unable to control her bodily functions for several days.” Being the base’s servant, I had been the one to clean up after her. She had truly tried to be helpful, but there is only so much one can do when one does not know when an attack will come. I had fed her grass for days to help with the process.

“How about a broccoli salad for breakfast, then?” Michelangelo offers, grinning. I bob my body again in gratitude and then move out farther into the living room to clear the door.

“When will the ladies wake up?” Leonardo asks, following me from the kitchen. I hop onto the back of the couch and balance there carefully – being on the ground, shorter than everything around me, makes me nervous.

I find him with my right eye. He is holding a hot cup of tea and sips at it. “I can wake them now, if you like.”

“They should get their rest if they’re still sleeping.”

I fix him with my other eye and notice that his fingers are idly drumming on the outside of his thigh. “They are more used to short naps throughout their day. They can sleep up to eighteen hours each day.”

Leonardo’s left eye ridge rises, expressing surprise. I am slowly coming to realize that these mutants use the same body language, for the most part, as humans do. I do not know what kind of body language regular turtles display. “Weren’t they… too busy… to sleep that much?” he asks, almost as though he does not wish to know the answer.

“Indeed.” I shift my weight when the turtle winces. “Yet when one is sick, or when there is a break for renovations or restaffing, they will fall into such patterns.”

“Well… Then we might as well get them up. Is Oberon awake?”

I look at the door that leads to Oberon’s new room. “Likely so, though he will wait until released or until nature calls to make his awareness known.”

“Can we teach him to open the door for himself?”

I fix Leonardo with my left eye again. “Of course. Oberon is quite intelligent and will learn new commands as necessary.”

Leonardo does not seem to like my wording; he winces once more. “No, I mean… Can he learn that he can come and go from his own room whenever he wants?”

I cannot help but wonder if any of us are capable of learning to listen to our desires and acting upon them, particularly Oberon, who is so set on being a good boy. I rub my beak with my foot in thought. The motion is soothing to me and Leonardo waits patiently as I decide upon an answer. “It will take patience and a firm hand. Oberon seeks to be praised and petted above all else. He is an excellent guard for this reason, though perhaps that is also why he fell so easily to Titania. He does not take well to isolation or lack of physical contact.” His harshest punishment is being chained up in a jail cell, after all. That hurts him more than any beating.

“Do you think it would be better to leave him like he is?” Leonardo asks after a long moment.

“Does any being thank their creator for making them self-aware?” I reply quietly; at least, as quietly as I can speak, considering my large beak and the difficulty to produce intelligible speech. Leonardo glances at me in surprise and I turn my head, a little embarrassed. “Humans strive to learn, to grow into more than they are born as. I have never understood their need to attain such understanding. The innocence I once enjoyed is no longer mine to claim.” I rub my beak with my foot, a little embarrassed at speaking so to one I do not know well.

Leonardo hums in thought, sipping from his tea again. “I guess it depends on what he wants, then.”

I hop off from the back of the couch and go to wake the sisters and release Oberon. My hop-walk is a little awkward, but I am long past the days of being conscious of the irregularity in my gait.

**Titania’s POV**

Lysander calls my name, opening the door. I stretch lazily, taking my time; one of the first things I remember, waking in a strange place, is that we are no longer at the base. The comforter I rest on is mussed by the movement and I smooth it out as I stand up.

“Michelangelo is preparing breakfast,” Lysander tells me. I nod to show I have heard and turn to my morning bath. “They expect us shortly, I presume.” That is his way to tell me to keep my bath short.

I still smell of chemical strawberries but that is preferable to sewer filth. Mindful of Lysander’s warning, I concentrate on my face, hands, and belly, smoothing the rest down and only nibbling out the worst of the knots.

“Good morning!” Mike calls happily, coming into the wing just as I am finishing. I step out from my room and smile in greeting. His eyes flicker down my front.

“Good morning, Mike,” I say politely. His eyes drag back up and he turns darker green.

“Uh, m-morning,” he says. “How’re you feeling?”

“I am doing well, thank you. And yourself?”

“Awesome. I’m good. I made bacon and eggs; it’s on the table.”

“Good morning,” Aemilia says, smiling shyly at the turtle. She looks a little rumbled from sleep still; I eye her appearance and she ignores me. Typical.

“Hey, Aemilia,” Mike replies, waving a little. “How’re you doing?”

“Good, thanks. How’re you?”

“Glad to hear it.  I’m good, thanks. Breakfast is in the living room. Help yourself; there’s plenty more.”

“Don said you’re a good cook, so I think I will,” Hippolyta announces, striding from her room. She looks at least a little better than Aemilia. She shoots Mike a grin, blows him a kiss, and heads for the table. The turtle’s grin widens.

“Oberon, time for breakfast,” Lysander says in the background, hopping away from Hermia’s door to let the dog out. Oberon bounds out of his room and heads straight for Mike, knocking him down and licking him enthusiastically. I shudder a bit at the idea of having to clean all that drool from my fur, but the terrapin is laughing and play wrestling with the larger mutant.

Stepping around the playful pair, I go to the table and observe the offerings. There is more food than I have ever seen in one place. Three plates are piled with several types of eggs: scrambled, over-easy, and poached. There are a couple dozen in all. Bacon strips, one plate crispy and one plate chewy, sit next in line. Then there is a plate of toast, dark wheat bread it looks like, and pots of jam, butter, and something called Nutella next to those, with butter knives in each. Master had always had the human servants clear the utensils before allowing us to browse from his table. Judging by the pile of utensils, all mismatched, by the stack of empty plates and napkins, we are expected to use them. At the end of the table are glasses and mugs – again, nothing matches – and pitchers of juice and ice water, a full coffee pot of hot water and another of coffee, and a gallon of milk.

Don is already helping himself, putting two poached eggs and a couple pieces of bacon on a plate. Then he takes a slice of toast and spreads it with a little of the jam. Finally, he puts a mug on his plate and pours himself a cup of coffee. He turns and sees me.

**Don’s POV**

Some rest has clearly done Titania good and she’s watching me curiously as I build my breakfast plate. Mikey has really outdone himself; there’s enough food that I suspect we’re going to need to make a shopping run soon. Then again, our group’s population has more than doubled and we need to put some weight on the ladies, Oberon, and Lysander.

“Hi,” I say. “How’d you sleep?”

Titania hesitantly picks up a plate as she answers. “Very well, thank you.”

“Once we’ve all gotten our breakfast, Leo wants to talk to us in the living room.” I nod to the couches where Leo, Raph, and Hippolyta are already seated, eating. I see Titania wince at her sister’s manners; she and Raph are currently trying to figure out who can eat their plate the fastest. Leo is carefully ignoring them and sipping his tea.

“What looks good?” I ask, seeing that Titania looks a little lost in choosing.

“All of it,” she answers quietly. She looks at me. “Do you always eat like this?”

“Well…” I rub the back of my neck, a little embarrassed. “When we were young, Father would have to bring back all the food himself, so we sometimes went a little hungry. Once we grew up a bit, we were able to help. And since we started patrolling the cities at night, we have the money to buy groceries.” Titania makes a quiet noise of confusion, carefully selecting two pieces of bacon before taking half a scoop of scrambled eggs and a single over-easy egg. “When we stop drug dealers or muggers or whoever, we take their money off the streets. Spend it at mom-and-pop stores. I had a job for a while as an IT tech, but… It didn’t work out in the long run.” I still sometimes have nightmares about the clients I could get.

“You go into stores?” Titania asks, looking at the drink options.

“No – well, not when we have an option otherwise. April and Casey pick things up for us. They’ll bring you all some clothing today, too, and we’ll introduce everyone.”

“April and Casey are your human friends?”

I nod, offering Titania a fork for her eggs. She takes it carefully, clearly unfamiliar with it. “Would you like milk or coffee? Or tea? Or… I think Mikey made orange juice, but it could also be his orange Kool-Aid stuff.” The woman smiles as I ramble on and I tell myself to shut up forcefully.

“Tea would be wonderful,” she murmurs quietly. I quickly pour hot water over a green tea bag and add a little milk when she glances at it.

“You can ask for anything you like,” I remind her quietly, putting the tea cup on her plate. “You’ll want to eat five small meals a day, too, since you’re not used to this much food.”

Aemilia and Hermia join us at the table and follow Titania’s example, helping themselves cautiously to the plentiful food. Mike, Oberon, and Lysander are right behind them; my brother is wiping drool off his plastron and face.

**Raph’s POV**

Hippolyta and I are totally not challenging each other, by the way. I’m just hungry. And apparently so is she. Though she keeps glancing at me.

“Raph, remember you manners,” Leo mutters. I roll my eyes. I was almost done anyway. “Good morning, everyone.”

The three women join us. Mike puts a large, shallow bowl of broccoli on the back of the couch for Lysander, where it is easily accessible to the bird man. Mike’s chopped it up into large pieces that he can easily pick them up with his beak and he mashes them a little before swallowing. Mikey also serves Oberon, who ignores the utensils he’s offered and dives face-first into the bacon. See, Leo? My manners aren’t nearly that bad! Finally the youngest serves himself and plops down with Oberon on the floor. He’s gonna get slobber in his eggs.

Leo gets himself a second cup of tea and then goes around and collects the dirty plates from those of us who are done. Don is going to be on dish duty, but there’s still plenty of food left over; Mike went more than a little overboard. I decide to get another mug of coffee and grab a piece of bacon, too. At Oberon’s happy bark, I toss him a piece from across the room; he catches it and doesn’t chew.

“Raph.” Leo’s annoyed tone is amusing; I smirk at him and lean on the back of one of the couches behind Aemilia and Hermia.

“Yeah, Fearless?” I ask lazily, sipping the coffee. It’s nice and strong.

“Manners,” he mutters, though by his tone, he knows I’ve already stopped listening. I’m more than a little distracted; Hippolyta has put her plate on the table and leans back, stretching her arms above her head and arching her back.

**Hippolyta’s POV**

A full belly of hot, good food; a warm night of uninterrupted sleep? I’m more than a little happy, but to be honest, I’m already a little bored, too. What do these turtles do for fun? I catch the red-banded one, Raph, watching me as I stretch out my back. I shoot him a smirk that has served me well before in bringing men to their knees. His eyes widen and he looks quickly away, shifting his weight.

“What’s the plan today, Fearless?” he asks roughly, looking at Leo.

Leo arches a brow and looks around; everyone has finished by now and are watching him as well. He sets down his tea and sits up, looking a little nervous but mostly awkward. Last night’s announcement from the rat Master seems to have put this blue-banded turtle in charge, a role he is trying to get used to. With a glance at Raph to make sure he’s watching, I smile gently at the blue-banded turtle, catching his eyes and radiating confidence at him.

I see Raph’s neck tighten and a vein in his forehead begins throbbing. He’s so much fun to tease.

**Don’s POV**

Less than one day and Hippolyta is already playing Raph like a piano. I sigh as his vein jumps when the cat-woman smiles at Leo. It takes our big brother by surprise and he swallows.

“I’m going to give everyone check-ups,” I say to cover the silence. This gets the attention off Leo, who shoots me a grateful look as he takes a deep breath to regain control. “I’m going to need you all to come to my lab one at a time; I want to make sure no one’s injured or needs medical attention. It’ll also give me a baseline in case someone gets sick eventually.”

Everyone nods in understanding. “How long should that take?” Leo asks.

“Half an hour each, I think,” I reply. “And I might as well do ours, too, since it’s about time anyway.”

“Alright,” Leo agrees. “Our next priority is to get you clothing.” The women exchange uncertain glances. “While you have never worn it, it would be….”

“Easier to avoid jumping one of us?” Hippolyta teases, smirking, when Leo had been silent for a moment, searching for a word. I try to figure out if I want to laugh or run away.

“As inelegant as that sounds, yes,” Leo agrees. “We have been raised with a code of honor. I intend to teach you that code. It is called Bushido and it is the foundation of ninjutsu.”

“Who said we wanted to learn that?” Hippolyta growls.

Leo fixes her with a bland look. “If you choose to stay with us, our rules will apply. We are more than happy to provide for you until you can find a place of your own, of course,” he replies quietly. “However, should you choose that path, we would be forced to relocate you far from us, preferably in another city, to avoid any unnecessary complications.”

“What do you guys have against sex?” the black cat woman asks curiously.

I can see Leo is struggling to explain the lifelong sense of ethics we have been raised to adhere to and step in, clearing my throat. “Against the act of sexual intercourse itself, nothing. However, we have been raised to respect a person’s body and her right to use it – or not – as she chooses. That same respect would extend to us, we hope, in acknowledging that your lack of clothing makes us uncomfortable and is… distracting. And finally, basic clothing will protect against chill, illness, and unwanted physical contact as well as disguising you from the occasional glance if you come across a human.”

“Huh.” Hippolyta leans back against the couch. “What’s this nin-chit-soo thing?”

“Ninjutsu is a martial art form,” Leo replies now that we’re on more comfortable topics. “We follow Bushido as our creed, or way of life; the seven core values are integrity, respect, courage, honor, compassion, honesty and sincerity, and duty and loyalty. You will learn these values and follow them if you decide to live with us.”

“Can’t wait,” I hear Hippolyta mutter. I glance over but she’s staring at the TV, arms crossed over her ample chest.


	9. Monster

**Mike’s POV**

Leo could go on for _hours_ about Bushido. I’ve pretty much forgotten most of the actual words; it’s just a feeling. _Be good, be kind, and don’t sleep with random strangers_ is kind of what I follow now. Well, I added that last part after meeting these four hot chicks…

“So what’s the actual _plan_ , Fearless?” Raph asks, just as eager to avoid getting Leo started.

Leo shoots Raph an annoyed glance at the nickname. “Don’s going to stay in and get the check-ups done for our guests and Master Splinter. Raph, Mike, and I will drive to the junkyard and pick up some furniture for them. Before we leave, I’ll ask April to bring you all some clothing to try.”

“We are grateful for the pains you take for us,” Lysander says quietly, fluffing his feathers up. “If there is anything we can do in return…”

“Get better,” Don chuckles. “Let us help you realize what life can really be like.”

“Have you done this before? You seem quite prepared to take us in,” Titania notes with a smile.

I laugh. “Yeah! We’ve made lots of friends. You’re a walk in the park. LH – Leatherhead – is a croc mutant, the Krang found and made him. Then there was Dogpound and Fishlegs and Bebop and Rocksteady – mutants on Shredder’s side.And we’ve gone into dimensions where there are giant two-legged triceratops. And there’s a whole world filled with nothing but antho-animals, like our buddy Usagi; he’s a rabbit samauri. Oh, and I’m the Battle Nexus Champion, which basically means I’m-”

“The best fighter in the known multiverse,” we all say at once. Raph and Leo sound exasperated and Don shoots me a half-hearted glare.

The new mutants all look lost, except for Oberon, who is just happy that I’m rubbing his stomach with one hand. “It’s a long story. A long… annoying… story,” Don tells the group.

“Hey!” I argue. “It’s a good story!”

“For another time, Mike,” Leo suggests with a small smile. “We should get going.”

“I’ll do the dishes and then we’ll start with check-ups. Who’d like to go first?” Don asks our new friends.

No one speaks up for a long moment and then Titania raises her head. “As I will likely take the longest, I shall,” she says quietly.

“The longest?” Hippolyta asks, raising an eyebrow at her sister.

Without looking at the black-furred mutant, Titania clasps her hands. “There is a reason Oberon and I originally escaped. We had planned to bring you along, but circumstances were against us.” Oberon growls in agreement, though he’s stretched out alongside me and his eyes are closed. Titania finally looks at each of her sisters, meeting their eyes for a long moment. “I am pregnant.”

“What?!” Hippolyta shrieks, sitting up and facing Titania.

“How?!” Hermia demands. Aemilia’s jaw is open as she stares at the eldest of the four.

Oberon’s confused, and that’s probably a good thing.

“I should think you know very well how,” Titania snaps at Hermia, ignoring Hippolyta.

“You can’t be!” the dog woman objects. “Master-”

“Isn’t a god,” Titania growls, crossing her arms. “Whether or not he planned it, I am fertile and I _will_ have my kittens.” I love kittens. And puppies. Heck, anything cute. I’ve even been known to squeal at baby snakes, though Raph hates them. (He actually fears them but I get pounded if I say that.)

“But… You can’t!” Hippolyta objects. “It… It’d be… They’d be monsters!”

With a scream of rage more human than cat, Titania launches herself at the black mutant. They roll off the couch and Hippolyta’s head slams into the coffee table with a loud _whack_! I jump up, letting go of Oberon, who stiffens at the scream and rolls over, opening his eyes.

**Oberon’s POV**

Titania and Hippolyta are fighting; it’s happened before. I shove the low table out of the way and snatch the first woman I can get my canines on; I’ve got Hippolyta’s ankle. I drag her backwards, snarling at them both.

Mike rushes up to my side and yells, “No, stop!” I drop Hippolyta’s ankle, confused. I am helping!

**Raph’s POV**

I knew this was coming. That chick has been looking for an excuse to get her claws into Titania. No love lost between those sisters. Kinda reminds me of me and Leo before we had to come to terms with our relationship. Sure, I still push his buttons, and yeah, I’ll kick his shell if he needs a whooping, but I’d never do _this_ to him.

I vault over the back of the couch as Mikey pulls Oberon off. Don grabs the coffee table and yanks it farther away as Titania almost whacks her head on it, too. I see Leo moving in as well and grab whatever fur I can reach, yanking it backwards.

Hippolyta screams with pain; I get a good grip on her elbow and jerk it backwards. She twists around and her claws sink into my arm, but I’ve been through worse. I clap my other hand to the back of her neck, now that I’ve separated her from Titania, and drag her claws out of my arm. Cats always go limp when you hold them up like this; I’ve seen Mike do it to Klunk when she needed medical attention, and Oberon had done it the night before.

“Be quiet!” Leo orders. He’s got Titania in a bear hug; she’s scratching at his plastron and hissing madly. Hippolyta hangs in my grip; she’s light enough that I can hold her up for a while. The tip of her tail is ticking like mad and she keeps trying to watch Titania.

I shake her to get her attention. “Listen up,” I growl. “No matter _who_ is born, _they_ will not be monsters.” It sickens me that she could say something so cruel. From a human, it would be expected. But from a mutant, from Titania’s own sister? It’s disgusting.

Her ears go back and she refuses to meet my eyes. I shake her again, expecting an answer.

“Fine,” she mutters. It sounds like that’s as good as we’ll get and I toss her onto the couch. Don immediately checks on my arm, pressing a clean napkin to the worst of the spots of blood.

“I’m fine,” I tell him. “Go check Titania.” Leo’s still holding her, but now she’s stopped scratching his plastron and is sobbing quietly into his chest instead. I glower at Hippolyta again and she’s crossed her arms, growling and glaring at her own knees.

**Leo’s POV**

Once no longer under attack, Titania had sheathed her claws and broken down, crying into my shoulder. I let her lean against me, my arms no longer containing her but holding her upright.

“It’s alright,” I murmur quietly, like I do to Mikey when he’s upset. “Your kittens will be beautiful and loved.” If she lives, if they live, we will make sure they have as good a life as we can offer.

Don comes over and visually checks Titania for cuts. She’s bleeding a little from a few scrapes, but mostly fine. Hippolyta’s face is already turning purple with a bruise, but I doubt she notices the pain. Raph’s standing over her as if daring her to twitch. Mike’s calming Oberon down, who looks quite confused and unhappy.

Aemilia and Hermia glance between the two sisters, gaze lingering on Titania. Aemilia finally stands, shoots a glare at Hippolyta, and walks over to Titania. She adds her arms to mine, hugging us both. “I will help. Anything I can do,” she murmurs to Titania.

“Me, too,” Hermia adds, joining the pair – and by extension, me. Hermia and Aemilia cover Titania so that Don can’t check her, but the emotional support is more important for now.

Hermia and Aemilia gently draw Titania from my arms and escort her to her room; I make sure they close the door and then round on Hippolyta. “Dojo, _now_ ,” I order. Raph grabs Hippolyta’s elbow, dragging her to her feet. She hisses angrily at him but doesn’t resist as he drags her into the dojo after me. Don will see to Lysander and the dishes; Mikey will help Oberon understand why he can’t keep biting the women to stop their fighting.

“Kneel, Hippolyta.” I face the back wall of the dojo, my core shivering with disgust at what we’ve just witnessed.

Raph shoves Hippolyta to the floor and holds her down with his hands on her shoulders. She tries to get up and he pinches the nerve in her collar bone; she mews softly in pain.

**Hippolyta’s POV**

Raph’s holding me down by my shoulders and my entire right arm is numb. Fine, maybe I shouldn’t have said what I did, but even these guys have to see that she _cannot_ give birth!

“In our family,” Leo says, looking at the back wall and standing stiffly, “there were two brothers who could not get along. The younger would not listen to the older when orders were given, putting everyone in danger.”

“And the older would not listen to the younger when he needed him to,” Raph adds quietly. “They fought bitterly, angry at the other for never listening. Thoughts became words. Words became shouts. Shouts became blows.”

“It got to the point where the entire family was imperiled for the anger and bitterness clouding their minds.” I roll my eyes at the drama of the pair. Just beat me and be done with it!

Raph’s grip on my shoulders tightens. “And one night, the younger said something damning. He said, ‘I hate you.’ And the older believed him, believed that his brother could hate him. But he went outside after his brother, trying to find him, keep him safe, even with the horrible things he had said.”

Yeah, yeah, your wittle feelings were hurt, boo hoo. Grow the fuck up.

“It took us two days to realize he wasn’t just stuck by daylight,” Raph growls, probably feeling me roll my eyes again. “We searched the second night. On the third, we started looking everywhere. Mikey couldn’t sleep; nightmares. He lasted five days. Donnie wouldn’t eat unless I remembered to bring him something. I usually didn’t. I lost him after the first week. I lasted nine days before I was delirious from an infection in my leg. Mikey had to call down April ‘cause Master Splinter was on a meditative retreat.”

“And let me guess,” I snap, “Leo saved your ass.” I cry out in pain as Raph’s hand snaps closed over my neck, pressing something that makes my legs and belly go numb.

Leo turns around but is looking at Raph instead of me. “I didn’t know. I had been taken by the Foot the first night.” There is dark fear in Leo’s eyes as he takes a deep breath.

Raph’s voice is harsh and honestly it scares me when he starts up again. “When Master Splinter returned, he helped April and we got better. We started all over again, but this time Master Splinter kept us from getting too bad. We found him seven months, two weeks, and three days after he’d left.” I glance up at the raw pain in Raph’s voice; he’s watching Leo carefully.

I look back at the blue-banded turtle as he closes his eyes and holds out one hand, palm up. “They beat me, starved me, tortured me, then healed me and started all over again.” I can see a fine tremble along Leo’s hand, jerky, as though he can’t control it. It gets worse as I watch and I know Raph is watching it, too, from the way he is absolutely still. “I’ve never told anyone exactly what happened to me in there... I can’t.” Leo closes his fist and takes a deep breath, forcing himself to still the tremor in his hands.

“What’s the point to all this?” I ask. I mean, it’s a sad story, but I’m not exactly seeing where this is going.

“Words can hurt,” Leo says quietly, opening his eyes. “Words can kill. They can drive your friend to abandon you, your sister to suicide, yourself to madness.”

“My words drove my brother away; he could have died thinking I hated him.” I glance up at the guilt in Raph’s voice. “I’ve never really forgiven myself for that. We’re still working on it. It’s because of me-”

“Raph.” Leo’s voice is gentle. Raph nods briefly, smiling at him, but there’s pain behind the expression.

Ugh, brotherly love, whatever. Titania isn’t my idea of a sister. She’s condescending, she never thinks I am good enough. She’s constantly cleaning herself and trying to clean me. I was supposed to take over once she died.

“You feel inferior to her,” Raph tells me, looking down. I blink as our eyes meet.

“No-” I snap angrily.

“You do. She is constantly showing you up.” He glances at Leo with a smirk. “She gets on your nerves every time she opens her mouth. She’s constantly doing _something_ that pisses you off and she doesn’t even notice how much it hurts you. And your Master liked her better, gave her more attention, pulled out all the stops for her. He only ever pointed out your flaws, what you could do better, how you could _be_ _more like her_.” My jaw is dropping. _Yes, all of it, yes._ I can’t help but nod along.

Raph releases my shoulders and moves around to kneel in front of me instead, his knees nearly touching mine. Our eyes lock and I can’t look away. “I’ve been there. _We’ve_ been there. It hurts, and you get angry because you think it’s her fault.”

“Of course it is! She should’ve told Master. He’d have killed her and it would be done. I would be eldest; _I would be best!_ ” I can feel tears falling down my fur and angrily brush them away. I’m not sad, I’m angry! …Right?

“And then you would realize that you miss her,” Raph continues as though I haven’t said anything. “You would miss her voice, the sound of her moving around. You’d miss her favorite food and look for it, keep a supply on hand… just in case she comes back. You’d start drinking his tea because you can’t bear not smelling it in the morning. At night, you’ll wait for the sound of his door closing after her gets done with even more training than everyone else does. And before you know it, it’s morning and that door hasn’t closed, so you get up to make his tea. And it repeats.”

“I’m not like you,” I argue loudly, glaring and putting my ears back, tail lashing. “I hate her! I hate her and her babies!”

The back of Raph’s hand connects with my jaw with a sharp _slap!_ I grab my jaw in one hand and stare at him, shocked. The pain is less than my shock, at this point. I’ve been slapped before, after all, and Raph was aiming more for surprise and sound than for pain. His expression hasn’t changed and he is simply watching me, waiting for me to speak.

“In the dojo, only truth may be spoken,” Leo says from behind Raph. “Anything less is unworthy of these walls and unworthy of your ears.”

“I _am_ telling the truth, you assholes,” I yell at the unruffled pair. I’m crying and I angrily rub my eyes again.

“You are jealous,” Raph tells me. “You love her, but you don’t feel worthy of being loved by her. She highlights all that you are insecure of. All that you hate about yourself.” Leo comes forward and puts his hands on Raph’s shoulders; Raph reaches up and covers his hand with one of his own.

“You wish to hide your pain and anguish,” Leo murmurs. “You are scared of change, scared of leaving behind what was comfortable. You took this out on Titania and her kittens. Do her kittens deserve your hatred? Have they so wronged you by being conceived that you would wish them _dead_?”

_No… No, I could never…_

I rock forward and Raph is there, hands on my shoulders, holding me up as I sob with the realization of what I’ve said, what I might have done to my _sister_.

“How… How do I fix it?” I ask, looking at Raph. There’s a depth of understanding there that I hadn’t hoped for.

“You tell her you’re sorry,” he murmurs. “You tell her until she believes you. Then you tell her you love her, and you do that until she believes it.”

I nod and stagger upright, but this time it’s Leo who stops me, who puts his hands on my shoulders and holds me down on my knees. “Not yet. She is hurt; she will not listen. She needs to think, to be comforted by those who have not just ripped her heart out.” I flinch at the words but nod mutely in understanding. “Stay here until Don comes and gets you. Think about what you have said and why you said it. Think about how you can mend those bridges you just set alight. With _all_ of your sisters, not just Titania.”

I shift into a more comfortable position, cross-legged, and try to figure out where to begin.

“Begin by forgiving yourself,” Raph suggests, standing. He touches Leo’s shoulder; I watch them through my lashes. Leo leans against him and takes a trembling breath. He’s shaking again; Raph just holds his hand for a long moment. Leo stops shaking, straightens, nods as if they’ve spoken, and leads the way out.

**Leo’s POV**

I thank Raph for the support and love with a glance and he squeezes my hand. We go out, leaving Hippolyta to think about her actions in the dojo. Raph heads upstairs to gather his equipment for our upcoming trip to the junk yard.

“Don?” I poke my head into the kitchen; my brother is about done with the dishes and Mikey is putting the leftovers in Tupperware. Oberon is crouched along a wall out of the way, watching happily.

“You ok?” Don asks quietly, noticing the remembered fear that’s still shadowing my eyes. I nod; he and Mikey smile gently at me. They know what Raph and I just revealed to our guest and how sensitive I still am about it, even two years after being rescued. “Need something to take the edge off?”

I shake my head. I’m getting better at controlling the panic attacks that used to attack two or three times a day. We’ve gotten it down to about once a month and I’m trying to stay off of the anti-anxiety meds Don keeps around for me. I don’t like being dependent on them.

“She’ll think about it while you do the check-ups,” I tell Don. He nods; he’ll let her have a while, then do her check-up and talk to her when she’s in a more receptive mood again. “I’d better call April and let her know what’s going on.”

“Sounds good, bro,” Mike agrees with a chuckle. He tosses a piece of bacon to Oberon, who catches it easily.

“Get the truck started, Mike, and we’ll head for the junk yard as soon as it gets dark.” It’ll take him thirty minutes to get to the garage and actually do what I’ve asked, so I head for the new wing to check on our guests. Lysander is on his perch in his room; he nods his body in acknowledgement when I glance through his window, then tucks his head back into his armpit to return to sleep.

I knock at Titania’s door and Aemilia opens it after a moment. “Is everything alright?” I ask quietly, seeing Hermia stroking Titania’s fur; the eldest sister is curled in her lap, eyes closed.

“She’s calmed down,” Aemilia murmurs in reply. “Is she…?” She doesn’t want to say Hippolyta’s name out loud yet.

“She’ll be in to apologize later,” I explain. “We left her with some things to think about.” Hermia and Aemilia nod in understanding, though they look a little… upset. Likely they were expecting us to beat Hippolyta, which I’m sure is how their Master punished them. While I won’t hesitate to wipe the floor with Raph’s shell if he needs it, Hippolyta’s been beaten all her life. She needs a new form of punishment, one that teaches her something instead of simply leaving bruises.

“There will be no beating of anyone here,” I tell them both, and by extension, Titania. “We didn’t get around to making clear all of our expectations of you, but that is one of the most important. Oberon will no longer shake you for acting out. You will not scratch or hurt each other.” Titania lifts her head and nods, as do her sisters.

“Whatever you say, Leonardo,” Hermia whispers, “We… We want to stay.” She looks down at Titania and blows a gentle current of air at her sister, ruffling her fur. “We want to see how you live; we want to live our lives without fear of death by stepping wrong. We want to see Titania’s kittens grow up big and strong.” Titania smiles and her hand drifts to her abdomen, stroking it absently.

“Then welcome to the family, sisters.” I can tell my easy acceptance of their declaration is a relief to them; their ears relax. The amount of emotion they convey with a flick of their ears is incredible and I kind of wish we had such tellers of our own thoughts; it would have come in handy between Raph and I at the very least.

I step out and Aemilia closes the door quietly. I cross to Lysander’s doorway. He has drawn the curtain back and is waiting for me to arrive; he immediately dips his head and flares his wings, almost bowing. “I, too, wish to stay,” he says quietly. His beak is facing me so that he can’t see me.

Not that I had expected differently, but I am pleased that he came to the conclusion so quickly. “Of course,” I reply, “so long as you don’t bow to me outside of the dojo.”

Lysander straightens to his full height and looks at me out of his right eye, a twinkle of amusement there. “Something tells me that the next few months will be quite interesting indeed.”

I agree with a chuckle. “It’ll take getting used to for everyone.”

He shifts his weight and then asks, “Will I be… clothed?”

I tilt my head slightly, realizing that I’m mimicking all the body language we’ve seen from this new group. They are much more in touch with their animal side than we are, after all. “If you want to be.” I don’t know how he’d manage to get his wings through a jacket or shirt. “You look like us so we weren’t expecting you to. Er, you’re covered, I mean.” Nice, Leo, real smooth there.

Lysander chortles, a funny sound from his throat, and switches eyes. “I had hoped not to be. Clothing… reminds me of a cage.” He rubs his beak with one foot, apparently embarrassed. Or just itchy, who knows?

I nod in understanding. “I think Don’s going to start with you, if that’s okay.” He bobs his body and hops after me into the main living room where Don and Mikey are standing.


	10. Doctor Donnie

**Don’s POV**

The bird-man comes out of the secondary wing after Leo. “Lysander, just the guy I want,” I say cheerfully, drying my hands on a dish towel. I toss it to Mikey and he goes to put it in the washing machine. “Ready?”

“I am,” the bid-man replies. I hold the door open to the lab; he hops in and flutters onto the table I set up in the middle of the room. I’ve already cleaned and prepared the space.

I sit down in my favorite rolling chair and pick up my clipboard and notebook. “Alright. I want to make clear, first of all, that I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” I say seriously. “If at any time, you feel uncomfortable or want me to stop, all you have to do is say ‘No.’ Clear?” Lysander bobs his body. “Have you ever seen a doctor before?”

“Once, when I was injured by a guest who tried to grab a handful of my tail feathers,” Lysander says quietly. “She was a vet; rubbed an antibacterial into the affected area and instructed Master to allow me to rest for a couple days.”

“Okay, good. Any other issues I should know about before we start?” I jot down a note about the pulled feathers and to check the area in case there is lingering infection.

“I have been known to pull my chest feathers when stressed, but was trained out of the habit,” Lysander says, looking around the lab and avoiding my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur quietly, making a note of that as well. “Well, for now, I’d like to take some pretty basic samples and information. Your height and weight – we’ll track that for a while to see what you probably should be around. I’ll trim a little off one feather, if that’s okay. Take a vial of blood – I like to sequence the DNA of any mutant I meet – and check for any blood-borne illnesses that could be there. Then I’d like to listen to your heart and lungs, check your pupil response, and reflexes. Sound good?”

Lysander nods in agreement and I set down the clipboard. “Hop on down, please, and we’ll get your height and weight.” He does so, wings open to steady the fall. I drop a tape measure and hold it under one toe, matching it to the top of his crown, which comes to about my collar. “Four foot six,” I tell him, writing that down. “And onto the scale, please?” His clawed feet are too large to both fit, so he stands on one foot. I take down his weight and he jumps back onto the table.

“May I… May I listen to my heart?” he asks as I loop my specially designed stethoscope around my neck and plug the ends into my ears.

“Of course,” I reply, grinning. I find his heartbeat, ruffling gently through his chest feathers to find the strongest sound. It sounds normal – faster than mine, but I would expect that. I find his left ear and hold one of the stethoscope’s ear buds to it. He listens for a moment and clacks his beak.

We both listen to his lungs – he takes several deep breaths and I can hear the air wooshing around. It’s clean and there’s no rattle or gurgle that alarms me. With his permission, and moving slowly to avoid startling him, I run my hands over his wings, feeling the bones. This is partly to ensure there’s nothing worrying and also so I can sketch what I think his skeleton looks like when we’re done.

Lysander’s wings are far too small for real flight; they’re more decorative than anything. He uses them for a little boost when jumping and to steady himself, and perhaps he could glide from a higher point to a lower, but that’s about all they’re useful for.

Since he stands on his toes, his “knees” are actually his ankles and bend opposite to what human knees (and ours) do. I check the joints and help him awkwardly sit down so I can test the reflexes. He’s unresponsive, but I have no idea if parrots even have the same kind of reflex as humans, so I just make a note of it.

Then I draw a small vial of blood from his ankle and swab his tongue and inner beak for samples there, too. His pupils react well to light, shrinking when I shine a pen light into them on both sides. The tail feathers that were yanked are healed up; it’s probably been a while since that happened. Aside from a bit of loose down, which he preens out as soon as I notice it, he’s healthy enough, just underweight.

“I’d like to put you on some vitamins,” I tell him, sitting again in my chair. “If you don’t object, I’ll actually have April pick up some parrot vitamins. I don’t know enough about your mutation to suggest human vitamins, and you have different needs with your feathers.” Lysander bobs in agreement. “But for now, you can take this.” I hold out a vitamin in my palm; he peers at it and then carefully plucks the pill up in his beak and swallows it without water.

“I’d also like a few pictures of you, for the file,” I continue, holding up a camera. Lysander hops down from the table and stands up against the white sheet I’ve hung just for this purpose. I take several pictures of him in profile from both sides, facing me and from behind, and a few close-ups of particularly intriguing areas, like his beak and wings. He lifts his wings as far as they can go and I lean backwards over my desk to get all of him in a final picture with his wings spread.

“Do you have any questions for me?” I ask, my ritualistic ending to any check-up, as I upload the images to my computer to sort and name them. It’s always important for a doctor to open that door for a patient.

“Many,” Lysander agrees, “but not about this.”

I nod. “Well, I’d like to give the women a little more time, so I can answer at least a few of them.”

Lysander switches eyes again and bobs his body up and down. It might be nervousness, seeing the caution in his eye pointed at me. “How did you come to be?” he asks.

I grin; I had been expecting this. “Master Splinter was a rat belonging to his beloved master, Yoshi. Our enemy, Shredder, killed Yoshi one night and Master Splinter escaped, living in the sewers. He found us in the sewers covered in green slime.” He’s never said it, but I think the only reason he dragged us out of the green ooze was for his dinner. I shake my head a little, amused at the idea. “But then we all began to change. It was a very slow process – and of course we were babies so we couldn’t remember much. My first memories are of toddling around after one of my brothers or Master Splinter, on four legs and then two. He raised us as his sons as soon as he started to become conscious of the changes. He’d learned ninjutsu from watching Yoshi, a little, and he knew we all needed to be able to defend ourselves, so he found thrown-out books about martial arts and taught himself. Then he taught us, too. And the rest is just kind of history. Your average four-kid family, all brothers. Rough and tumble doesn’t even come close.”

Lysander chortles in amusement with me. “How old are you?”

“Somewhere around twenty two, we think, at least in human terms. Our development followed human standards, taking about fifteen years to reach our full growth – except Mikey, who is still growing; I think his genes more closely resemble a turtle’s in that regard and he may never stop growing.” I grin as I think about Mikey towering over Raph – and the rest of us, but the hothead would hate it. “Master Splinter is a year older, about, but he looks and acts the equivalent of a seventy-year-old human or so.” Objectively, I know Master Splinter is coming close to the end of his life, but I dread that day.

“How have you managed to survive… even thrive… without humans?” Lysander asks after a long moment to think about what I’ve said.

“At first, it was just survival,” I reply easily. “Some nights, we’d go a little hungry – though Master Splinter never let us truly starve.” I think he deprived himself sometimes, which could account for how fail he is getting. “Once we got old enough to really help out, we started looking for more permanent places to live. We stumbled across this place – long story, but it’s Atlantian, from the lost city – and started fixing it up, putting in modern stuff, mostly scavenged.”

“It is an incredible home,” Lysander praised, looking around the lab again. “It may lack some of the elegance of our base, but it feels… warmer?” He looks for a word, claw tapping the table idly. “It feels more like a home than a base,” he finally says.

I grin. “It’s our home, and I hope you come to see it as your home, too.”

“I would be honored.” Lysander hops off the table. “And while I have many, many more questions, I should let you see to your next patient.”

I nod and, as he hops out, remember a question of my own that my brothers will need to know. “Lysander?” He pauses in the doorway, eye looking back at me. “Do you want anything for your room?”

Lysander shifts uneasily, but I smile encouragingly. I want him to feel comfortable, and one thing I think they all need work on is listening to their own desires and expressing them. “It is… awkward… to use your toilet,” he finally murmurs. “Master just put newspaper down.”

“I think I can design something better,” I chuckle. Something like a wide toilet, with flushing and self-cleaning options, should do the trick. “Anything else?”

Again, Lysander shuffles and I wait patiently. “My beak continuously grows,” he says. “And I am happy with my one window.”

“We’ll find something to you to chew on if it starts overgrowing,” I promise. A thick log would probably be just fine. “Also, do you ever need your claws clipped? Regular fingernail clippers aren’t going to do the trick.” His claws are about as thick around as my finger and he looks down at them, amusement in his eye.

“Master would clip my claws to keep them from scratching the floors or walls when I walk,” I tell him. “But your floor is concrete; they should keep themselves trimmed.”

“Alright, but if you need me to, I have some bolt cutters around here that’ll do the trick.” I let Lysander go and he hops out. Turning to my desk, I make my final notes on the computer file, adding my notes and noting the date and time of his first check-up.

I decide to bring in Hermia next and repeat the process with her. Since I have absolutely no idea if they can get breast cancer, I also show her how to check herself by gently kneading her breasts. I manage not to blush, repeating to myself over and over as I feel the soft flesh that I am a professional and she is my patient. I see a grin hovering over Hermia’s muscles as I explain what I’m doing and how she should do the same; I think she can sense my battle for control.

“Did your Master spay you?” I ask once we’ve covered the breast exam, picking up my pen and making a few notes. Hermia sits up and swings her legs off the table, facing me.

Hermia shakes her head, ears flopping a little. “There was no need. He… we… never imagined we could get pregnant, especially with a human. We’re different species.”

I nod in agreement. “Alright. Next question. Do you go into heat?”

“I think so,” she answers quietly, looking down a little.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” I remind her gently, patting her hand. She grips my hand in thanks and doesn’t let go; I’m content to let her hold it. I don’t need it that much anyway; I’m ambidextrous. “We have mating cycles, too.” She raises an eyebrow in surprise but I don’t want to get into that now. “Describe what you felt.”

“I was… I don’t know how to put it nicely. I was especially horny. I approached anything that moved; woman, man, mutant or human. I got shaky if I didn’t…you know… every hour or so. It was… It was scary.” She fell into a whisper about half-way through, grip tightening. “I thought Master was going to have me killed, but he liked it...”

“When was this?” I ask once she’s been quiet for a moment, eyes distant.

“Um… Forty nights ago?” she guesses hesitantly. “Lysander would know better; he kept better track of time than we did… Never really needed to.”

“Okay, may I ask him when he thinks this happened?” I ask. She glances up, confused that I would ask her permission.

“Oh, yes,” she murmurs at seeing that I’m serious about getting a response.

“Thank you.” I make the appropriate note. We cover some more basic topics and I ask her if she wants any of her many questions answered.

“Um, well, I was confused last night… What happened?”

I nod a little, pondering how to explain the new family dynamics. “We were raised by Master Splinter as his sons but also as his prodigies in ninjutsu. Leo was always expected to take over from Master Splinter at some point, but we thought it would be later in life, and that he would just be leading us three, which is what he does anyone. He is the _jonin_ – master of the clan. Now Leo is confirmed _chunin_ for _everyone_ who chooses to live here – kind of like Master Splinter’s next in command. He leads us in the field, but we’ve all been _genin_ – soldiers – for a while... Now, historically, you didn’t move up the ranks like Leo does. But Master Splinter won’t live forever and unlike humans, we can’t get another _jonin_ for our clan from another clan with an extra eldest son, not to mention it’d be impossible for Master Splinter to have a son… So Leo’s going to be _jonin_ when Master Splinter leaves us and Raph will become _chunin_. So it is his responsibility and duty to train you and teach you to be honorable warriors. If you stray from the path, _he_ will be dishonored. So… He’s nervous.”

“That’s stupid,” Hermia snorts. I’ve noticed that she quickly leaves behind a more cultured tone when she feels comfortable or upset. “If we screw up, why’s it his fault?”

“If you make a mistake, it isn’t. But if you willfully do something dishonorable, and know it is dishonorable, then he has not taught you well enough.” I shrug. “I didn’t say I agree with it,” I add when she looks at me skeptically. “But that is how we were raised.”

“So… In your own way, you’re just as bound as we were,” Hermia murmurs.

“Um…” I blink, unhappy with the comparison. “No… We would never… Bushido makes sense.”

“And prostitution doesn’t to someone who has never known otherwise?” Hermia asks.

“Well… I guess… But there _are_ better ways to live. More honorable, I mean. With love and respect and kindness.”

“What if I _want_ to be a prostitute?” she asks, curiously.

I stare at her in surprise. “Well… Uh… Why would you?”

“Let’s just pretend. What then?”

“Then… you would not be living here,” I reply quietly. “We would find you new accommodations.”

“So in your own way, you’re just as intolerant as the rest of us. You’d judge me for choosing what to do with my body because it doesn’t match what _you_ think I should do with it.”

I struggle to deny it truthfully. “No… We… We wouldn’t judge you… We’d try to help…” I realize that the very thought that they would need help is judgmental and seal my lips before I can make even more of a fool of myself. But I can’t keep quiet for long. “There’s many dangers. You could get infections, sicknesses that could kill you. You could be attacked by a… client.”

Hermia tilts her head in acknowledgement. “Which is why I don’t want to be a prostitute. But, I was still curious about your answer.” I nod and gesture for her to ask her next one. “So now that Leo’s top dog, what happens?”

“We make sure you’re healthy and get some basic necessities for you. Then you start learning about our way of life. And if you decide you want to do something else, we’ll help you move to a new place.”

“Okay. Do we really have to dress up?” She sounds like she doesn’t like the idea. “You guys don’t.”

“Well, uh, we’re covered,” I point out, patting my plastron.

“You’re still naked.”

“We aren’t indecently exposed.”

“Then… Wait, you don’t have genitals?”

“No, we do; they’re hidden. We take more after turtles in that way.” Master Splinter isn’t covered, however, which is why he wears robes. Well, that and his fur is getting thinner with age so that he needs clothing to keep warm.

“Then where’s your penis?”

I clear my throat. “In my tail,” I explain. _Just a doctor/patient conversation_ , I remind myself, cheeks darkening. “We keep them tucked up.”

Hermia glances at my lap and nods. “Neat. Does it just pop out or…?”

“Or something,” I agree, not particularly enthusiastic about this line of questioning.

“How do you have sex?”

“I, um, I have theories about physical copulation but have never tested them.” Her eyes widen. “Let’s move on, shall we? Do you have anything you want for your room?”

“But… You’re a virgin! Why?!” The idea seems to shock her as much as we were shocked by their own history. She ignores my less-than-subtle hint.

“Because we don’t show ourselves to humans,” I reply grumpily. Her shock is a little disturbing and, I admit, hurts a bit.

“What about each other?”

I freeze. “Uh… Uh…” Super professional, Donny. “We’re brothers and were raised with human morals? Plus none of us swing that way…?” I don’t even want to… Nope, not even thinking anything. Blank mind.

“Swing what way?”

Now this is can handle. “It’s a euphemism for being homosexual. So far as I know, all of us are heterosexual, meaning that we prefer mates – sexual partners – of the opposite sex.” I have my own doubts as to a certain one of my brothers, but I won’t say anything if he doesn’t, and _certainly_ not to a new friend.

“What if one of you was female?”

“Um… Then we’d be sister and brother? And it would be really weird and probably screw up the whole team dynamics,” I reply.

“What about us, then? We’re female _and_ unrelated.”

“Remember what Master Splinter said last night? He forbade relationships. That includes sexual encounters of _any_ kind, between anyone.” She had been listening, right?

“Oh. What if we really like each other?”

“Then… Then… I don’t know!” I make a helpless gesture. “Do you like someone?” I’m almost afraid of the answer.

“Maybe,” she offers, grinning wolfishly.

“We’re a team before anything else, and jealousies would be _really_ destructive. Especially right now when everyone’s a little off kilter and confused.”

“I guess. But what if I get horny?”

“Then… Ignore it? Or you can masturbate?”

“Is that what you do, during your mating season?”

I put my hand over my eyes. “Let’s just say that we all have our ways of dealing with it, okay?” I suggest. “And no, I’m not going to explain how I handle my needs.”

“That seems unhealthy…” Hermia swings her legs in thought, tucking her hands under her thighs. “I mean, there’s gotta be a happy medium, right? Between ‘sex all the time’ and ‘sex never’?”

“I… suppose…?”

Hermia nods a little. “I think so. How much is healthy?”

“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “It probably depends on the person.”

“So if I like a lot of sex but you don’t, how do you deal with that?”

“You talk like adults and come to an agreement,” I mutter. “You realize that your needs aren’t the only ones and then you make a compromise.”

“Huh.” Hermia whuffs in thought, ears twitching. “I’ll go think about it.” She hops off the table and walks out, leaving me to finish up my notes and try to forget all the images our little talk has scared up.  

I ask Aemilia to come in next and go through the same process. Her build intrigues me the most because she’s part dog, part cat, and part human. She is shy, though not of her body. Her voice is quiet when she answers and she keeps her head tucked down when not talking straight to me.

“Do you have any questions for me or any special things you’d like us to find for you?”

She shakes her head a little. I know it’s a lie – I can see them under her eyes. I smile gently and wait.

“Well… Um… Would…” She stumbles a little and stops, hands firmly clasped. “Can I… Can I have something to draw with?”

I blink, surprised, and then smile. “Of course,” I reply. “I think we have some paint around here, in fact, but we can always get you more. Do you like to paint?”

“I… don’t know… But I saw that picture in my room and… I can’t find the words… So maybe that will… Will help me talk?” she whispers. “It’s such a pretty picture.” She looks at me through her lashes as though expecting me to laugh.

“Which one is it?” I ask. I can’t even remember what pictures were hung in what rooms. Mikey mostly took charge of decorating the lair, particularly that wing before we closed it off.

Her eyes are distant as though seeing it before her. “There’s grass, and flowers, and trees on the side but mostly it’s sky. It’s not a silly blue color like in the stories; it’s grey and black and purple. I think it’s a thunderstorm; there’s white streaks in the clouds, anyway. And they’re… they look like they’re almost close enough to touch, and I think they’d feel like fine velvet or pudding. I guess it’s supposed to be scary, but it’s just beautiful. And the clouds aren’t permanent; they’ll move away sometime. I want to think that our life is going to be like that, cloudy for now and going to get brighter. I’ve never seen the sky.”

“We’ll show you,” I say after a moment, caught up in her soft voice. “When you’re ready, I’ll take you up and show you. But it’s not as pretty as what you’re describing.”

“It will be beautiful,” Aemilia argues softly, “because it’s real and it’s something I can see instead of reading about.”

I nod in understanding and grab one of the many stacks of unlined paper I keep around for sketching and planning. She looks at it carefully when I hold it out. “You can start with this paper,” I explain. “Come on, let me show you the store room.”

She follows me out of the lab and to the store room where we keep items we aren’t currently using. We’ve learned never to throw things away until fully used up, and even then, sometimes we’ll keep them just for the memories. Mikey makes the most use of it, and I swear he knows where everything is in here, but it’s pretty unorganized.

I feel conscious of the mess and rub the back of my neck. “We, uh, don’t really keep it clean…”

Hold the paper to her chest, Aemilia looks around. There’s a pile of fabric next to the door; when we need more bandages, I wash it and cut it into strips. It’s also useful for a variety of Mike’s projects. There are some long poles leaning against the wall that serve as anything from broom handles to obstacle course jumps to a new Bo if mine breaks. That’s where Mikey got the perch for Lysander. Anything we find that we think just might be useful, we put here. Once a year or so, we clean the place and force ourselves to get rid of anything we can’t possibly use.

“There, uh, should be paints… somewhere…”

Aemilia brightens. “Would… Can I clean it?” she asks, looking around with delight.

I blink. “You want to clean it?” Aemilia dips her head and shifts her weight away from me as though scared. “Of course you can! I just… I didn’t think you would want to… It’s pretty nasty.” I eye the dust on everything. There’s a musty smell to the room; some food probably got in here at some point and molded.

“I… I like things to be tidy… I was always the one to clean things up if Lysander didn’t get to it or if he was busy.” She looks down and there are tears forming in her eyes.

On instinct, I reach out and tilt her chin up, smiling. “Then I think you’ll find this a great challenge,” I say softly, trying to make her believe my words. “And it will be very helpful to everyone.” Plus, the work will help her build muscle, not fat, and will give her something to do between training, sleeping, and eating. I’ve always believed that having something to do is important to healing.

She smiles a little, her ears perking up as I speak. “Just don’t overdo it,” I add. “If you feel tired, rest; if you need help moving something, just ask.” I leave her staring into the room and clutching the paper I’ve given her, her eyes dry and a spark of determination behind them.

“Titania?” I ask, knocking quietly at the feline’s door.

“Come in,” she calls softly. I find her on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She sits up and curls her legs under her. “Is it my turn?”

I nod and she stands gracefully, following me back to the lab without speaking. I go through the familiar motions and make the appropriate notes. Her voice is quiet and direct, never dropping her cultured accent. Then I show her the Xray machine and position over her abdomen. I take several pictures; two from the front, two from the side.

Once they appear on the screen, I enhance the contrast a little and print them on plain paper. Then I roll my chair over to Titania’s side and help her sit up, placing the pictures in her lap. She stares at them in confused delight.

Taking a pen, I point out the four blots on the screen. “As far as I can tell, there are four kittens,” I explain. “They aren’t yet developed enough to tell anything about what they will look like or their sex. Based on these scans, however, you appear to be following a fairly human-like pregnancy. Do you… know when you conceived?”

Titania shakes her head, flipping the pages to see the different angles, building a picture in her mind. “I just… knew… one day… I was supposed to start menstruating but no blood came. II thought I was just late, but… I _felt_ different. I knew something was wrong within me; I thought I was sick, at first. But I thought about what the loss of menstruation means in humans and… I dared to hope.”

“You weren’t sure and you still escaped?” I ask, surprised. She nods absently, tracing one finger along one of the blobs. “You were – you _are_ – very brave. Now, since Xrays aren’t the best way to keep an eye on fetuses, I’ll build an ultrasound machine – but it’ll probably take a little while. Do you have any requests, anything special you want in your room? Or can I answer any questions you have?”

She shakes her head. “I am already more than grateful for your care and attention.” Finally, Titania looks up from the pictures, stacking them neatly in her lap. She can keep them, of course; I have the digital files. “Is there anything I can do for you and yours?”

I grin a little. “Aemilia’s working on cleaning out the stock room to find some paints. You’d be more than welcome to help her and use anything you find in there. Hermia and Lysander might find something they want, too.”

Titania moves to get up; I stop her with a gentle shake of my head. “Before you go, I’d like to discuss one more thing with you.” She sits, politely attentive. “You are the natural leader of your sisters, Lysander, and Oberon. You have more experience than they do; they’re used to obeying you. That means you have to set the example until you all decide – individually – how you want to live the rest of your life.”

“Very well,” she agrees.

“It also means,” I continue, “that you’ll have to fight your own desire to be top cat and bully your subordinates. A good leader doesn’t attack her followers when they speak up against her – no matter what.” Titania’s ears have folded back and her lips are lifting slowly, revealing her fangs. “You have to control your emotional reactions.” I gesture to her body language. “And you have to be ready for arguments. It took us _years_ to learn how to really live as a team, and we work on it daily even so. Don’t be scared to ask for help, and don’t be afraid to make mistakes, but own up to them.”

“But… Leo…”

“Can’t be everywhere. He’s got nine of us to lead now, not to mention himself. Raph’s been his second for years when it comes to leading us four. Unless you give him a good reason not to, he’s going to make you into his second for leading your group in case something happens and we have to split up, and for training purposes. If you have objections, tell me now so we can choose someone else.”

“I am pregnant,” she objects. “I cannot lead my sisters and Lysander; they already see me as imperfect.”

I chuckle quietly. “No one said a leader should be perfect. Leo isn’t perfect; he knows it, we know it, and we accept his mistakes.” Not that Leo doesn’t _try_ to be perfect, and beat himself up when he isn’t, but he’s gotten better over the years about accepting his mistakes. “You won’t be pregnant forever, and nothing we’re going to work on will be affected by your pregnancy. But if you _really_ don’t want the job, we’ll ask Hippolyta.”

Her sister’s name make Titania growl softly. “I will do it,” she says quickly, standing. I let her go this time and she stalks off to her room. I quickly call Leo, Raph, and Mike, who are in the middle of their scavenging, and let them know that Titania has agreed to train as Raph’s equivalent. I’m glad that she did because we don’t need another hothead as second in command.


	11. Welcome

**_Don’s POV_ **

I seek out Hippolyta in the dojo; she’s sitting cross-legged and staring blankly at the back wall. Clearing my throat to announce my presence makes her start and she turns around to look at me. “It’s time for your check up,” I tell her. “Then you’ll apologize to Titania.”

She stands, a little wobbly after spending all that time sitting down; I lead her into my lab and go over the usual things. Compared to earlier, she is subdued and answers quietly, clearly still startled by the earlier treatment from Leo and Raph.

Once complete, I put down my notes and face her, silently handing her one of the scans of Titania’s stomach. She looks at it, puzzled. “Those are going to be your nieces and nephews,” I tell her quietly. She looks up in shock and then back down. “Are they so monstrous?”

She quickly shakes her head; they’re little more than white blobs, but she touches one gently as if to stroke its fur (assuming it has any). “I… I was wrong,” she murmurs. “I just… I’m jealous and stupid and petty and… and… stupid.”

I nod. “Raph has said that to me.” Hippolyta looks up, confused. “There’s a lot of commonalities between you two. Second in line to leadership. Rough exterior, and I’ll bet you’re a softie at heart like he is. Fierce and loyal to a fault. You’ve even driven away the person you look up to the most, just like he had. He got Leo back; we all did. Will you mend your relationship with Titania? They have already chosen to stay here, so if you can’t, you will not be able to remain.”

She looks up and nods, a spark of the same fierceness I’ve seen in Raph before lighting her yellow eyes. “I have to. Even if she hates me… I’d deserve it if she did… I have to tell her I’m sorry. If she still doesn’t want me around, then… Then I’ll leave…” I can tell the idea breaks her heart.

“I’m sure she will forgive you, but you have to give her time and show her you mean it.”

Hippolyta nods, handing the paper back to me. I toss it onto my desk and ask my ritual ending question, but unlike the others, Hippolyta just wants to leave and tell her sister that she’s sorry. I dismiss her and go to find Oberon.

Unlike the others, Oberon’s skin is marked with scars and, to my disgust, I find heavy scarring around his neck from some type of collar. Mike and Raph had used flea and tick shampoo on the dog mutant but some ticks are still latched onto his skin behind his ears, in his hips, and at the base of his tail. It takes me nearly forty five minutes to go over his entire body and get rid of them all.

Then I feed him a piece of bacon for being good and turn him loose; he sniffs around the lair and then trots over to Mike’s usual place on the couch and sits in front of it in his usual position, chin on hands, waiting for his new “master” to return. I turn on the TV and he stares intently at it, though it’s still on Mikey’s cartoons. I figure he’ll enjoy them, anyway.

It’s taken a little longer to finish the exams than I expected, so I set out lunch – chicken noodle soup from cans and another broccoli salad for Lysander. I’m no expert in the kitchen; I leave that to Leo and Mike. Even Raph is more of a culinary master than I am.

I notice that Hippolyta is still tense and quiet, and Titania is kind of ignoring her for now, but I sense that their relationship will heal and am content to let them work it out. Master Splinter joins us for lunch; he always takes his own breakfast earlier than everyone else. Following my example, they make clumsy bows to the rat and he smiles at them all. Then he goes to sit on the couch and watch his stories; I glance over and grin to see Oberon with his head in my father’s lap and Splinter idly scratching behind his ears.

**_Mike’s POV_ **

I groan as I stretch out. We’ve moved a couch, three _big_ dressers, and four kinda intact mirrors into the truck. It’s stuffed and I can’t even sit in my usual chair; I’m piled in like more cargo. Leo drives to the warehouse and I doze; at least the couch is comfy.

Other than an occasional order, we three have been pretty quiet tonight. I’m still thinking about our newest house guests, after all, and the junkyard _is_ patrolled by guards. Super lazy, stupid guards, but they’d definitely check it out if I started yapping away. (I do know how to be quiet, it’s just that I don’t like to be!)

I’ve also stuffed a duffle bag – in my orange color, of course! – with some random knickknacks I came across. There’s a few mantle pieces in there, some random picture frames that aren’t too badly scratched up, a couple of posters, and a huge can of perfectly good trail mix. Okay, so the trail mix expired about three years ago, but it tastes just fine!

Leo always starts and stops too quickly, making me feel sick as we finally stop in the warehouse and he and Raph jump out. “Jeez, Leo, could you drive any more like a grandma?” I tease when they open the back doors.

“Can it, shell for brains,” Raph growls, yanking out one of the mirrors with a grunt. Despite his tone, he’s gentle enough on the thing to keep it from breaking further.

“A couple more trips should do it,” Leo says quietly. As usual, he pretends that I haven’t teased him and Raph hasn’t retaliated. I hop down and help him get the couch. I do _not_ look forward to carrying this through the sewers.

“Man, you know what would be cool?” I ask aloud as we head for the entrance to the sewers from the warehouse. I’m walking forwards, at least; Leo has to walk backwards, in front of me, and Raph leads the way. Neither answer me so I have to answer myself. “An elevator from the warehouse to the lair.”

“Too dangerous,” Leo grunts, stepping carefully over a pipe. I hop over it a moment later.

“Awww,” I whine. Really, though, I agree – we’d never put a direct route to the lair from the surface. It’s just asking for trouble.

Still, my back is aching when we finally get to the lair and Raph uses his toe to push in the brick since his hands are full. We lug the couch in and find everyone enjoying lunch.

“Mikey!” Oberon howls in welcome, running over. I drop my end of the couch, causing Leo to jump back to avoid it landing on his feet; I’m under Oberon and giggling as the big dog-man bathes me in slobber.

“Okay, Oberon, enough, enough!” I laugh, shaking drool from my mask. He backs up obediently, tail and body wiggling in delight. “Good boy, yes, you are.” I scratch under his chin and he wiggles even faster.

Raph grunts, eyeing my slobbered face and plastron. I stick my tongue out at him and go back to the couch, lifting it with Leo. “Where d’ya want this?” Raph asks Titania gruffly, tilting his head at the couch.

“I believe it would be best to add it to the living room,” she replies after a moment, realizing that we’re waiting for her to say something. “Then there will be enough seats for all.”

This, of course, means that Don and Oberon have to move the other two couches and arrange them into more an arc. We fit the third one in and Oberon slings an arm over my shoulders, crouching a little to do it, panting happily. It’s weird to have a “pet” dog that’s bigger than me, but I love Oberon’s friendliness and happy personality.

“Were you good for Donny?” I ask, scratching his tummy fur.

“Yeah,” Oberon sighs happily. “Got bacon.”

I laugh and my own stomach growls with hunger. “Come on, I need some lunch before we bring down the rest of the stuff.”

Raph is off installing the mirror in Titania’s room; the sisters agreed to give her the first, though she had made some effort to have it installed in the common area instead. But I can tell that she wants the mirror, and I think everyone else can, too.

I help myself to lunch – Don’s made just about the only thing he can without burning down the place, heated cans of chicken noodle soup. Lysander is munching happily on broccoli and the sisters have, apparently with Don’s prodding, also made free of leftover bacon from this morning. A cold plate of it sits on the table and I feed Oberon a piece.

“Do you know how to shake?” I ask as we sit down. Well, I sit on the couch and Oberon crouches next to me.

“Yeah.” He holds up his hand, ready to shake whoever might be facing him. “And thpeak, and attack, and thit, and thtay, and pee, and namesth.” He looks at the women and Lysander. “Learn, too. Don, Mikey, Leo, Rafff, Math-Mather Thplinter.” I can tell those tricksy “s” sounds are hard with his long tongue and try not to giggle at “thit.”

“How about fetch?”

Oberon nods eagerly, body vibrating again in excitement. “Master play with me, fetch sticks, fetch squishy balls, fetch shoes. Like fetch.”

“Mikey,” Don hisses from behind me, leaning over the couch, “don’t treat him like a dog.” I can tell Don’s mad at me.

“’Th okay,” Oberon objects, looking at Don. “Am good dog!”

“Yes, you are,” I tell Oberon. I look up at Don. “I’m trying to talk to him and see what he likes!”

“Like fetch, like stick, like squishy balls,” Oberon adds helpfully. “Like belly rubs and scritches and food and Mikey.”

I laugh. “Thanks, dude!” I toss him another piece of bacon and Don sighs, going away.

“I sleep in your room tonight?” Oberon asks, perking his ears at me.

“You want to sleep in my room?” Oberon barks in agreement and sets his chin on the couch’s arm, staring at me with puppy-dog eyes. “Oh, low blow, dude, puppy dogs eyes are _my_ thing!” I laugh. “But sure, you can sleep in my room – we’ll move a mattress in for you.” Maybe the guy doesn’t like to sleep alone; more likely, though, he’s used to sleeping with a master. “But I’m not your owner, okay?” I add, trying not to sound mean. “I’m your friend and I don’t want you to think I – or any of us – own you.”

Oberon tilts his head to one side, huffing. “Mikey friend, not Math-ter,” he agrees after a moment of thinking. I grin and ruffle his ears; he sighs in happiness.

**Oberon’s POV**

Warm, full of bacon – I love bacon! – and clean, I am very happy. I like this new place. I like that Titania brought me here and I want to show her how happy I am so I grin at her. Her ears are droopy and her eyes are sad; I whine quietly and Mikey looks at her, too.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, moving over on the couch. I wiggle closer to Titania, too.

“I am… sad,” Titania answers softly.

“Why?” Mikey asks.

“Hippolyta apologized, but I cannot help but wonder if she is correct, in some sense.” I whine; I don’t like the word Hippolyta used. I put my head on Titania’s knee and she smiles a little, petting my head. “I cannot help but think about all that could go wrong in… in the next few months. Miscarriage, premature birth, birth defects… I have been reading about it all, online, about human and feline pregnancies. What if my kittens are not mutants but just kittens? What if I cannot love them? What if…”

I notice that her eyes are bright and water falls from one; I put my ears down and whine again, nuzzling her knees. It makes her smile a little again, but I don’t know how to tell her she is strong and brave and nothing will go wrong because we are happy and safe.

“What if you give birth to kittens just as beautiful as you are?” Mikey replies, smiling and squeezing Titania’s hand. “What if you love them with all your heart?” She looks at him in confusion. “You’ll do great. You’re smart and brave – and you’ve got Don for all that medical stuff. Let Leo do the worrying; that’s what he’s good at.” Titania chuckles a little and her ears lift. “Besides, you should be concentrating on what kind of stuff you want in your room.”

“Will you… Will you help me find a crib? When it gets closer to time?” she asks after a long minute of sitting in silence and letting Mikey hold her hand.

Mikey beams with happiness. “I’d be honored. And we can paint cute little kittens and puppies and… What are baby turtles called? Anyway, puppies and kittens and baby elephants and lions and all sorts of animals.” He keeps talking but I just like the sound of his voice; I think Titania does, too, the way her ears flick to catch every sound coming out of his mouth.

**Raph’s POV**

With Mikey talking to Oberon, I grab Don to help me move a dresser down while Leo takes a mirror. We make two more trips by the time Mike’s done chatting with the cat-woman and I haul him away for another dump run. This time, I drive; I hate to admit that Mikey’s right, but Leo’s driving skills suck.

“Let’s try the west side,” Leo suggests. I nod and carefully navigate through the huge piles of junk. Finding a well-concealed spot, I park the truck and turn it off; we pile out quickly.

“Let’s concentrate on dressers this time,” Mike suggests with a goofy grin.

Leo nods in agreement and we separate. First one to find something will alert the others with a pigeon’s coo, our usual non-alarm call. I spot a likely pile – there’s something wood there, anyway – and head over quickly.

The wood piece turns out to be a cracked headboard so I dig farther, piling crap on another pile of junk to get it out of the way. It’s slow work ‘cause there is no way I’m gonna bring the pile down on myself like Mikey the Wonderboy did earlier.  

**Leo’s POV**

Shifting aside a stained mattress, I spot a few drawers in a frame and signal my brothers. We carefully extract it from the pile and shove it into the truck, up towards the front. Mikey finds the next; it’s fairly small but we bring it anyway. If nothing else, Don always needs something to put his inventions and notes in.

The city is waking up as we finish and pile into the truck. Raph drives again; I get it, I’m not a great driver. I don’t really like driving anyway.

I find a dolly for the small set of drawers and Mike and Raph carry the largest on our way to the lair. We take a different route than we had earlier out of habit, but for the sake of my brothers, I keep it short.

“Try this on,” I hear April saying as we enter the lair. She looks over and grins. “Hey, guys!”

“Hey, April!” Mike replies, grinning. Oberon bolts towards him but doesn’t knock him over this time, at least. The dog-man is wearing a pair of grey sweat pants that are rolled up around his ankles. “Oberon, nice pants!”

“Good pants!” Oberon replies, body wiggling in happiness.

Raph and Mike move the dresser into one of the rooms and I move the small set into Hippolyta’s room; she smiles in gratitude. She’s got a red sweater and pink jeans on; when she turns around I note that someone has cut a hole out for her tail and lined the edge of it with soft material to keep it from chaffing.

“Lookin’ good, girls,” Mikey compliments easily, grinning. They do look nice. Titania is wearing a cotton t-shirt, white with some sort of logo on the front, and black pants. She’s trying to decide between a yellow or green sweater, holding first one and then the other against her body. Hermia is lounging on the couch in purple sweats and t-shirt. Aemilia emerges from her room and smooths a blue silk dress down her front, admiring the texture. It swishes around her calves, leaving her feet exposed. She’s also got a dark blue sweater over one shoulder.

“You all look lovely,” I agreea. April hugs Mikey and then me and gives Raph a friendly punch on the shoulder.

“Where’s Casey?” Raph asks, eyeing the piles of folded clothing on the table. Apparently everyone has chosen some of everything. Hippolyta picks up her piles and transfers them into her room.

“Grabbing the next load,” April chuckles.

“There is more?” Titania asks, surprised and delighted.

“I had no idea about your sizes, so I got a bunch of everything. You can always use anything too big or small for random projects,” our human friend replies, grinning.

“We are very grateful.”

“You’re welcome; it’s what we do for family.” April kneels to re-roll the legs on Oberon’s pants, which have already unrolled with his enthusiastic wiggling. “I’ll need to hem these, I think. Don, where’d you stash my sewing kit?”

“It’s in my lab,” Don replies, helping Titania pick up her piles. “Second shelf.”

April nods and disappears into Don’s lab and I head for the kitchen, turning on the tea pot and pondering what to make for dinner. We’ll need to make a food run soon. I settle on thawing out some of the extra hamburger we keep stashed in the freezer in case something happens and we can’t leave the lair for a few days. I have yet to meet anyone who doesn’t like a good hamburger. And we _still_ have some bacon left, and I know there’s sliced cheeses in the fridge. We’re a little low on hamburger buns, but I like mine without bread anyway, and so does Don.

I add some spices from the cabinet to the ground meat and mix it with my hands (after washing, of course). I’ve got three pans heating and Mike comes in to help. Hermia appears in the doorway, watching us curiously.

“Wanna help?” Mike asks, grinning goofily.

“I… don’t know how,” Hermia admits, ducking her head.

“No one’s born knowing how to cook. Don still can’t do anything but heat up soup,” I chuckle, washing my hands again. “We’ll teach you.”

With three of us, the kitchen gets a little crowded, but Hermia is small enough to avoid getting trapped between Mike and I. Mike shows her how to separate the cheese slices and set them on a plate; she carefully peels them apart, using her claws to lift the edges. She’s frowning in intense concentration as if completing a kata.

“ _Careful, big bro, or you’ll fall in love_ ,” Mikey giggles in Japanese. I shoot him a look and turn back to my own task quickly. It’s just nice to see Hermia doing something that she seems to enjoy.

Hermia looks at Mike, surprised at the different language. “It’s Japanese,” I explain. “We grew up speaking it. Then we learned English.”

“What did you say?” Hermia asks Mikey curiously.

“Just teasin’ my bro,” Mike laughs. “Nice job on the cheese! Let’s get the lettuce chopped.”

Hermia’s a little hesitant to use the sharp knife Mike offers her, glancing at me as if asking for permission. I smile over my shoulder and she lets Mike press it into her hand.

“Now, keep your knuckles curled like this,” Mike says, demonstrating. “So you can’t cut the tips of your fingers. Then you use a rocking motion, like this.” He cuts up the lettuce slowly, letting Hermia watch how he moves the knife and keeps his fingers safely tucked under his knuckles. She attempts the same, clumsily, and he watches to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.

I’ve got all of the patties cooked through and wrapped in aluminum, sitting in the oven to keep warm, by the time they’ve finished preparing the additions. Mikey loads Hermia’s arms with ketchup, mayo, relish, and other condiments and send her out to the table. He follows with an armful of table settings.

“Dinner,” he yells through the lair, alerting everyone as if the smell of cooking meat already hasn’t. I hear Casey teasing Raph good-naturedly as they come out of the dojo.

“May I bring something in?” Hippolyta asks quietly, appearing in the doorway.

“Sure.” I nod to the counter and she picks up two plates of additions and walks out. Mikey and Hermia come back; Mikey takes out the bowl for Lysander, this time containing the last of the broccoli and some leaf lettuce and sliced tomato. Hermia takes out pitchers of water and juice. I follow with the warm pans of hamburger balanced on both palms and on my head.

Everyone sits around the table; Don brings over a couple chairs from his lab and we pull the spares from the store room. I notice that someone’s in the middle of organizing it and Don tells me about Aemilia’s offer.

Master Splinter sits at the head of the table; I sit at the other end. Everyone else finds their own place and the food starts moving. The women listen as Raph and Casey bicker over a wrestling match or something. April and Don drag Aemilia and Titania into a discussion of alterations to be made to the provided wardrobes and start planning something of a fashion show/alteration party for the next day. Mikey helps Oberon sit at the table, though he’s a little unsure of the seat, and keeps him occupied. Master Splinter talks quietly with Hippolyta and I turn my attention to Hermia and Lysander, on either side of me.

“How was your day?” I ask them both, squeezing some ketchup onto my bun-less cheeseburger.

“This is excellent,” Lysander murmurs, nibbling on the lettuce. “Our day went well; after our examinations, Ms. April and Mr. Casey brought the clothing and it turned into something of a race to see who could find something first.” He clacks his beak and chortles.

“Oberon tried to sneak away,” Hermia adds, grinning wolfishly. Oberon grins at her, hearing his voice, and flaps his ears in amusement. “But we got him into pants eventually. He doesn’t want a shirt.”

I nod. “That’s fine. You look handsome,” I compliment the dog-man. “Did you all find things to your liking?” I look back at Hermia.

Hermia nods, nibbling at the edge of a plain hamburger patty. Her eyes widen. “This is excellent!” she says, a little surprised.

“Were you expecting it not to be?” I tease, grinning when she blushes; it’s hard to tell with her fur, but her skin turns red under the fur.

“I didn’t mean…” she starts.

“I know,” I interrupt gently, pouring her a glass of water. “I was just teasing.”

She shoots me a glance, not quite sure of that yet. I nod to the ketchup. “Try some of that on it; it’s good.” I take a bite out of my own hamburger, using a fork and knife since I don’t have a bun. We continue to talk about little things and I encourage her to try different foods from the table. Besides the hamburgers, Mike had made a salad with chopped lettuce, cubed tomato and onion, and a handful of spinach.

Hermia finds out that she’s not fond of spinach and makes a face at the taste. I can’t help but laugh at the look; Mikey glances over and sees what I’m chuckling at and joins in. Soon the entire table is talking and laughing, trading teases – mostly gentle ones from my brothers towards the women, trying to make them feel part of the family – and jokes. The atmosphere is light and happy. Once everyone is done, Don and Raph kidnap Titania to help them clean up the dishes while Mike shows Aemilia the movie collection and encourages her to choose one.

Once the dishes are done and April and Casey have been escorted to the surface by Raph, Mikey starts the movie and everyone gathers around the living room couches. Titania stretches out with her legs resting on Hermia’s lap; Aemilia leans against Hermia’s other side. Oberon lies under the coffee table, head on Mikey’s feet, snoring softly. Lysander perches on the back of the couch, careful not to puncture it with his claws. Don and Raph sit on the new couch, Hippolyta between them and heartily teasing Raph about anything she can think of. I sit next to Mike and shoot Raph a glance; he looks at me with a smirk as he gently whaps Hippolyta upside the head like he would Mike, admonishing her to watch the movie and be quiet. Master Splinter retires to his room with a last fond glance at all of us.

It’ll be a long road to recovery for our new family members, and judging by the glances and bickering between Raph and Hippolyta we may be having fraternization issues already, but I can’t help but feel optimistic about the future. After all, we’re mutant turtles, dogs, cats, and a parrot; what could possibly go wrong?


	12. Intermission

**Chapter 12: Intermission**

**Leo’s POV**

For just over eight days, we work tirelessly to make our guests feel welcome and cared for. It’s a long, slow process to help everyone figure out how to behave. There are some mishaps and adventures, like the morning when all the women showed up to breakfast naked and had to be told to wear clothing anytime they’re outside of their private rooms or in the bathroom.

Hermia and Aemilia struggle with nightmares, waking everyone with high-pitched screams once or twice over the passing nights. They always snuggle up with Titania afterwards, once everyone is convinced that no one is dying. I suspect that Titania has her own nightmares but is quieter about them. She certainly isn’t reluctant to have a sister share her bed for a night. As for Hippolyta, I’m not sure why, but she seems to be emotionally apathetic about her own history; I ask Don to check in with her but she brushes him off. He assures me that she has her own method of coping and we shouldn’t force her to do the same as her sisters; he’s also serving as a resident psychologist for the six new mutants so he should know. Oberon’s happy-go-lucky nature serves him well and Mike never mentions if he wakes in the night with nightmares, now that they share a room.

Titania slowly loses her sense of superiority, though occasionally it rears its ugly head and she has to fight it down – often helped along by a stern word from myself or Master Splinter. She and Hippolyta reconcile with each other and talk things out, often dissolving into quiet crying in each other’s arms with or without their sister(s) present. It’s very cathartic for the group.

Besides making up with her sister, Hippolyta becomes more confident in herself and loses the edge to her temper, expressed often as extreme sexuality instead of physical violence like Raph used to resort to. (Not that he doesn’t now, but he’s more controlled when he gives in.) She and Raph continue to tease and taunt each other, becoming friends almost before realizing it. They often wrestle, both more comfortable with physical contact than talking at each other.

Aemilia begins opening up a little more, speaking above a whisper. She sticks with Don most days when he’s in the lair, following him and soaking up anything he says about engineering or science. I think Don’s found a soulmate there. Near the end of the week, he even entrusted the code to his lab to her so that she can make free of his extensive reference library. She is often found curled up on the couch waiting for his return, hungrily reading any textbook she hasn’t finished yet. (I was slightly surprised to find that all of the mutants can read and write, though not very well.)

Hermia also becomes less reserved, though it turns out that she has a blunt side to rival Raph’s. Her assistance in the kitchen has become something of a ritual at each meal, though she always asks before joining Mike and I. She learns quickly and within a couple days is capable of fixing a meal for everyone if we’re all out of the lair, which is good because with an eager student, Don often forgets to feed himself and everyone else.

Lysander becomes a more and more common sight outside of his room. He slowly loses his subservient reaction to any request and begins to consider helping out at meal times and with any issues in the lair as an enjoyable choice rather than an expectation or order. Don designs a toilet that works more comfortably for his anatomy; Raph and Don build a nice little alcove into the parrot-man’s room for privacy and install the toilet there. Lysander takes to watching Master Splinter’s daytime stories with the rat and the two quickly become fast friends despite the vast differences in age and background, not to mention species.

Oberon is constantly upbeat and trails after Mikey whenever the youngest is in the lair. With a mattress in Mikey’s room, plenty of blankets, and a brand-new dog toy, courtesy of April, Oberon believes he’s in heaven. The lair is soon covered in bits of rope that he uses to drag any willing participant around, by hand or teeth, in games of tug-o-war and fetch. He dotes on Mikey and is the first one to welcome us home from scavenging and grocery runs. He’s not shy about giving all of us affection but Mikey is his special turtle.

These changes to our newest family members occur throughout the busy nights as we update and upgrade the lair to accommodate our growing number. April, Titania, Don, and Mike work together to make alterations to everyone’s wardrobe. Mike teaches Aemilia and Titania some basic sewing techniques and challenges Raph to a knit-off one afternoon, resulting in the pair of turtles furiously racing to knit the fastest and best-looking scarf. Mike wins with a purple and blue scarf that he gifts to Titania with a grin. She thanks him with a chaste kiss on the cheek, perfectly sisterly in her affection, and plans to use it as a long blanket/padding when the kittens are born. Raph’s scarf, red and yellow colored, disappears, though I see it wrapped around Hippolyta’s bedpost one morning while rousing the women from their beds. Red is a striking color on her against her black fur.

Oberon no longer trips over his too-long pants and usually remembers to wear them when coming out of Mikey’s room in the morning. Working with Don, Titania and Aemilia also manage to put together a soft cloak for Lysander in case he gets cold. He hasn’t complained of the temperature yet, and he does have feathers, but he appreciates the gesture and I catch him putting on the cloak and drawing it gently around his neck with his beak before looking at himself in the full-length mirror we put in his room.

Meanwhile, Casey, Raph, and I go back to the junk yard and bring in more furniture, including a second fridge and a separate upright freezer. Casey and April gift us a beautiful dark wood dining table and chairs so there is enough room for everyone in the dining room. Each of the women is equipped with a dresser and bed, a small bedside table, a mirror, and a soft chair for relaxing and reading in by the end of the third day. Mikey elegantly paints each person’s name over their room in English letters like he had over our rooms in kanji years ago. Everything has been used before, but no one complains; in fact, finding cans of paint in the store room and using some of the family money to augment the colors and options available, Aemilia helps everyone repaint their furniture to suit their taste.

Titania decides on soft greens and blues, soothing colors for when the kittens come she says. Mike lugs back three different cribs from the junk yard; though Titania likes them all, the pair finally agree on a high-sided crib in dark wood and Aemilia paints it white with striped green and blue bars. Then Mikey paints on baby animals and I add kanji symbols for health, peace, joy, and love. Everyone is excited for the kittens to come, though Don is still apprehensive about their chances.

Meanwhile, Hermia turns her furniture black and speckles them in glow-in-the-dark paint to make star patterns; with Don’s help, she maps some of the night sky onto her ceiling against a black background painted onto the brick. Aemilia ends up painting everything in her room in orange, brown, and golden yellow colors, mimicking a forest in fall. Hippolyta, after extensive thought, decides to go with a dark red color for her room, including the ceiling, and black accents that match her fur. Lysander likes the natural brick look and leaves his room unpainted.

In the space between the rooms, we put in a fourth couch and two soft rocking chairs, making a second living room. Mike plans to strip and repaint an extra crib to put in the second living room for babysitting purposes and for when the kittens are old enough to join in family activities. Don repairs a TV and hooks it up to the lair’s entertainment system, allowing two groups to watch two different things at once.

The kitchen gets the biggest overhaul. Raph and I clear out the small guest room next to the kitchen, making a temporary “kitchen” in the dining room, and knock down the wall between the two. Then we knock out the wall separating the kitchen from the living room, leaving only one weight-bearing pillar for safety. The result makes the whole lair feel larger, gives Hermia room to really move around when two turtles are already cooking, and will help with getting food to the tables.

With some help from Don and Aemilia, who seems to enjoy watching Don fix things and is starting to pick up some useful information, we build a pantry along one wall in the new kitchen space, complete with shelves from floor to ceiling and sliding doors to keep it out of sight until needed. We add a second toaster, seeing the popularity of toasted bread or English muffins at breakfast, and a second stove and oven. Luckily, we found one of those cool double-oven ranges, so we now have three ovens for cooking when needed.

Using some of the cash from drug busts and catching petty thieves, we buy enough groceries to fill the two fridges and stock the freezer with meats, vegetables, and bags of fruits and then fill the pantry with non-perishables like 50-pound bags of beans, rice, lentils, baking ingredients, and enough canned and boxed goods to last us a few months in case of disaster. We end up having to break into two separate CostCo stores to find everything we need and leave a few hundred dollars at each store to pay for the items. Don rigs several large sleds to make it easier to transport groceries from the garage to the lair and Oberon helps drag them eagerly, though he is nervous outside of the lair and practically glued to Mikey’s hip the entire time.

Throughout this exhausting and busy week, I consider how to approach my duties as newly appointed _chunin_ to the clan, particularly the newest members. Father leaves morning training for my brothers and I to my discretion all the time instead of occasionally. He and I discuss how to begin training for the four women and two gentlemen. I ask him for advice and his own stories about training us four; I learn a lot about our childhood as a result.

On Sunday, after our usual shortened morning training, Mike and I begin making breakfast. This morning, the menu is going to be pancakes and waffles, fruit compote toppings, syrup, and whipped cream. We’ve had to plan out meals in advance in order to have enough of everything to satisfy all the appetites. It’s both entertaining and exciting.

Mikey enthusiastically starts making the whipped cream with his special orange KitchenAid blender we got him for his fifteenth birthday while I work over the pair of griddles straddling the two stoves. Some of the cookware is new, some used, none of it matched; it adds to the charm of the lair. April gave me one of the griddles for my twelfth birthday; the other is from Casey on my sixteenth.

“Good morning,” Hermia says quietly from the doorway. “Can I help?” She’s dressed in a soft grey T-shirt and blue jeans, her tail brushed and wagging slowly on her left side. Her ears are perked and wide open, a small smile hovering around her lips.

“Morning, beautiful!” Mikey grins and waves her over. “Wanna chop up the fruit and start it on the stove?”

Hermia blushes at the compliment and nods, pulling out bags of frozen berries and chopping up the large pieces. I show her how to make the compotes; her tail gently brushes against my leg several times as we work in close proximity. Occasionally I reach over her to flip a pancake and she squeezes between my plastron and the stove to sniff appreciatively at the compotes as I show her which spices to add to each one. Her sense of smell is much better than mine; she can smell the different spices without even opening the tins for them. I give her free reign to experiment and she adds a little extra cinnamon to the blueberry mix.

I can hear the rest of the large family moving around in the main living room. Don talks with Titania and Aemilia while Raph and Hippolyta debate some issue hotly. Oberon peeks into the kitchen and barks a loud greeting to everyone. Business as usual.

Once the breakfast cakes are done and keeping warm in the oven, I taste the compotes. “These are excellent,” I tell Hermia, grinning. Her tail wags harder even as she blushes and looks down. “You have a talent in the kitchen.”

“Perhaps I can learn more from you,” she murmurs quietly, mismatched eyes sparkling with happiness.

“Of course. We’d love the help,” I answer. “With the group so big now, it’s best to have three of us at once. Even if it gets a little crowded.” Hermia flicks one ear backwards and forwards again.

“I like crowded,” she chuckles after a moment, reaching out to put her hand on my forearm. I can’t help a blush from creeping up my face and she grins. The one place of confidence the four women have over us turtles is their comfort in physical contact.

“Enough chat, kids, let’s eat!” Mikey crows, handing Hermia the bowl of whipped cream. Clearing my throat and mind, I take down a stack of plates and cups and follow her to the table to set the places. Mike comes out with the napkins and silverware in one hand and a pitcher of cold water in the other.

Titania and Aemilia, with Don, go into the kitchen and return bearing the trays of pancakes and waffles while Oberon cheerfully runs around everyone barking happily. Lysander uses his beak to pull out the chairs for everyone. Mike and I make the last trip to retrieve the toppings and put everything on the tables.

Hippolyta draws a frowny face in syrup on a plate of pancakes and hands it to Raph with a smirk; the hothead rolls his eyes and draws on a second line to turn the frown into an open mouth and fills it with strawberry compote, his favorite. Hippolyta sticks out her tongue and Raph taps her chin, making her gently bite her tongue. She snaps at his finger but he’s too quick for her.

Hermia puts a waffle on her plate and fills each of the four sections with a different topping: syrup and strawberry, blueberry, and “citrus sunshine” compotes. I sneak a second waffle onto her plate and she glares playfully at me but fills that the same way. All of the new mutants need to put on some weight. We sit down and eat in quiet companionship.

Aemilia and Don discuss something and Don pauses every now and then to explain a foreign concept or word, as they distractedly gather their own breakfast and retreat to a corner of the second table to talk and eat. Aemilia doesn’t talk while her mouth is full but, unfortunately, I can’t say the same for my brother.

Mikey helps Oberon make up a plate of waffles; the dog-man decides that he wants blueberry compote after carefully sniffing each option. Then Mikey piles his own plate with pancakes and syrup and strawberry compote. They sit together and Titania joins them with her own pancake and small samplings of each of the compotes.

Meanwhile, Lysander dips his beak into one of the two bowls Mike made for him. One is a salad of lettuce and tomato; the other is some slices of melon. He thanks Mike for the fruit and seems to enjoy mashing it in his beak, though it makes a bit of a mess.

**Don’s POV**

After breakfast, Aemilia and I gather up the dishes while Raph puts away the leftovers – there aren’t many. While I wash, Aemilia dries, and we discuss one of my recent attempts to replicate a Transmat device. While she does not have my experience in engineering, she is very smart and easily understands my explanations when I use a word she doesn’t recognize. Before I know it, the dishes are done and she follows me, still talking, into my lab.

I dump a couple spare inventions off of a chair for her to sit in; she carefully smooths her black skirt and purple shirt as she sits down. We’ve become fast friends in the last week and she has become more comfortable around me, asking questions when she’s lost instead of watching me with polite confusion. Soon, we’re both on our hands and knees, crawling around and under the tables to organize everything in the midst of introducing her to my workspace and satisfying her intense curiosity.

“What is this?” she asks. She’s holding up what looks, to an outsider, like a panel of buttons in a shell-like housing. There’s a small screen on the top and the back of the device is cracked.

“A prototype of the shellcell,” I answer, grinning. “I originally wanted to work off the cellular signals, but they fade rapidly underground. That thing won’t work in here but it’s fine up top. You can take it apart if you want.” I offer her a screwdriver. That was how I learned, after all.

She glances at me in surprise. “Are you sure? I don’t want to break it.”

I chuckle and nod. “We use these instead.” I show her my shellcell, pulling it from my belt. “They rely on ground-penetrating signals, which I’ll teach you about after you check that out.” I nod to the prototype.

Aemilia grins and sets to work on the prototype, kneeling under a table and ignoring the dust around her. I shift more items out of the way, organizing them and forcing myself to toss some into a bin destined for off-site storage. I’ve always put anything starting to overflow from my lab in the garage, but with all the vehicles in there now, I’m going to have to figure something else out. Particularly if Aemilia decides she wants to help build and fix things around the lair. I blush as I realize that I wouldn’t be at all averse to spending a lot of time with her.

**Raph’s POV**

Fearless shoots me a look of annoyance as I pin Hippolyta to the floor, her claws scratching at my tough hide without effect. “She started it,” I grunt at Leo, leaning on my elbow and trapping Hippolyta’s head under my shoulder. She braces both hands and feet against my shell and tries to pull free.

Muttering something about “go take a cold shower,” Leo heads for the kitchen to start making a list for our upcoming grocery run. It seems that we need to shop a lot more often, not that I’m really complaining.

“We’ll save you!” Mike suddenly screams. I release Hippolyta with a surprised growl as Oberon and Mike charge; Oberon outpaces Mike and bulldozes into my plastron. I roll him over but then Mike is on top of me. “Lick, Oberon, lick!”

“No!” I yell, but too late. Oberon slobbers and licks like crazy, covering my head, face, arms, and chest. Mike loops his arms under mine and locks his hands together behind my head, immobilizing my upper half.

“Hey, that’s not fair odds!” Hippolyta gasps.

“Then help a turtle out!” I snarl, trying to throw Mikey off my shell. Hippolyta glances at me, at Mike, at Oberon, and finally back at me again. “He’s ticklish! Get your ass in here!”

Hippolyta grins when Mikey squawks in outrage as I reveal his secret. She jumps on him and attacks the skin between his shell and plastron; he releases me to defend himself. I grab Oberon’s tongue in one hand and glare at the dog-man. He pants happily, his entire body wiggling in playfulness.

“Gross,” I tell him, heaving myself to my feet and spilling Mike and Hippolyta from my shell. Mikey’s trying to get a good hold on Hippolyta, who has her ankles locked together around his waist from behind and is tickling him mercilessly. I smirk and cross my arms to watch.

“Oh – hahahaha – I’m gonna _peeeeee_!” Mikey squeals, falling to his knees and shaking with laughter. “Help, Raphie!”

I growl at the nickname and sit on my brother’s calves, knocking him onto his plastron and attacking his feet. He twists and squirms, screaming in laughter. Oberon romps around all of us, barking with laughter and occasionally darting in to lick me or Hippolyta if we aren’t paying enough attention to him.

“Alright, guys, that’s enough rough housing with our guests,” Leo orders over the sound of Mikey gasping. The youngest turtle has run out of breath and barely manages to wheeze a thanks to the oldest brother when I roll off and stand up again. Hippolyta squeezes his waist between her legs once and then carefully extracts herself, too. Mike lies gasping on the ground and Oberon, concerned, washes his face until Mike manages to fend him off.

“Raphie, hm?” Hippolyta purrs, smirking at me. I shoot her a glare, folding my arms.

“Nickname… when we were… kiddos,” Mike gasps, still twitching on the floor. Oberon helps him stand up.

“Use it and die,” I tell the chick.

Hippolyta looks at me with a grin slowly building on her face. “Awww, is wittle Waphie mad?” She runs a finger down her cheek in imitation of a tear. “Wittle Waphie gonna cry boo-hoo?”

I snarl and launch myself at her, grabbing her hands and bearing her to the ground. Quickly and efficiently, I trap her under my plastron, ankles locked over her thighs so she can’t kick me. Hippolyta and the rest of the women are crazy flexible, we’ve found out; she’s kicked me in the head while standing close enough to feel the heat from her skin. I pin her wrists with one hand and cover her mouth with the other. This is usually the part when I beat Mikey for using that nickname, but two things stop me from doing the same to the cat-woman: she’s not a trained fighter and she looks so freakin’ fragile without a shell.

“Really, Raphael, Hippolyta?” Titania asks dryly, coming out of the bathroom. “Take it to a private room if you truly cannot keep your hands from one another.”

I look up in shock, dropping Hippolyta’s hands and quickly standing up. Hippolyta leans up on her elbows and glares at Titania. “I had him right where I wanted him,” she tells the cat-woman.

“Remember the rules,” Titania simply replies. She props one hand on her hip and observes us both like misbehaving children. She looks a hell of a lot like Leo with that expression. Speaking of Fearless… He’s _also_ glaring at me, mostly, though I can tell he’s not happy with either Hippolyta or me.

“Fuck, it ain’t like that,” I snap at Leo. “She-”

“Pushes your buttons, I know,” Leo replies calmly. “Watch your language.” I roll my eyes when he starts in on me with Japanese. “C _ontrol yourself or there will be consequences.”_ We’ve all gotten into the habit of using Japanese when talking about something we don’t want the newcomers to know about, like Purple Dragon activity or Foot patrol sightings.

 “ _We were just wrestling.”_

“Suuuure,” Mike mutters, grinning when I flip him off. Oberon whuffs quietly in confusion, glancing between everyone. His hackles aren’t up, though, so he knows no one’s really angry.

Leo glances at Mike and shakes his head. “ _Just be careful_.”

“Whatevah,” I grunt. I head for the dojo to work out, but to my surprise, Leo shakes his head.

“Time to start their training,” Leo insists. I snort and smirk at Hippolyta; this is going to be _fun_.


	13. First Day of Training

**Chapter 13: First Day of Training**

**Titania’s POV**

“Titania, please bring your sisters and Lysander into the dojo,” Leo asks me. Mike’s already walking into the dojo with Oberon, following Raph at a distance. Hippolyta stalks after the youngest turtle without a glance at me. She’s probably upset at me for interrupting her… wrestling.

I fetch Lysander and Hermia from their rooms and Aemilia from the store room, which she is putting the finishing touches on after organizing the room and cleaning it out thoroughly. With help from Mike and Raph, she has built several sets of shelves along the sides; Mike’s elegant handwriting labels everything in white on black paint.

Walking into the dojo, I see everyone arranged on the floor in various poses. The turtles kneel in a line, Leo and Raph in the center, Don next to Raph and Mike on Leo’s left. Hippolyta and Oberon are sitting in front of Leo, their legs comfortably crossed. Leo gestures for us to sit facing him and I fold down gracefully, tail curling around my left knee.

“As _chunin_ , it is my duty – and in this case, my pleasure – to instruct you in the ways of ninjutsu and teach you about our code of conduct, Bushido,” Leo says gravely. He fixes each of us with his gaze, lingering when our eyes meet. His expression is serious but there is warmth in his eyes. “You have all decided to attempt to join our _ryu_ – our clan. Thus, you agree to follow the direction of our Sensei, Master Splinter, _jonin_ of the Hamato clan. As _genin_ , members and soldiers of the clan, you will be held to strict standards.”

Leo nods to Don, who explains, “Our way of life is the way of the warrior, which is called Bushido. Originally attributed to the samurai, Bushido began to develop in the ninth century; at the turn of the 17th, the Tokugawa Shogunate standardized the ideals for a perfect warrior. That shogunate ended about a hundred and fifty years ago, so it’s not an antique way to live by any means.” He smiles a little when Leo flicks his hand in a ‘get on with it’ gesture. “History lesson aside, Bushido is primarily devoted to the idea of _honor_ ; it’s similar, in a way, to chivalry. That is, it’s kind of a rule book for how, when, where, and _why_ to fight and live.”

Leo takes back the conversation – or monologue? – with a small smile at the rambling. “The most important aspect of Bushido is complete obedience to authority. We obey Master Splinter, our _jonin_ , in all things from regular life to battlefield tactics. We expect that same obedience from you.”

“Not blind faith,” Raph adds when I tilt my head cautiously, concerned about losing this new-found freedom that agrees so well with all of us. “Master Splinter isn’t a tyrant; he can and does change his mind, given a good enough reason.”

“Except on jellybean pizza,” Mike jokes, throwing a proverbial wrench into the somber atmosphere. Everyone chuckles and the tension lessens a little; I smooth my fur without realizing it had started to stand up a little.

“And in the field, I make the decisions – and hesitation can mean a brother’s life. Or a sister’s,” Leo amends, smiling a little at each of us females. “So in battle, any command I or Raph make is to be followed immediately and without question – once we’re safely away, _then_ is the time to argue or point out something we may have missed.” Raph smirks and Leo shoots him a fondly exasperated glance.

“Our understanding of Bushido mostly rests on seven core values,” Leo continues after Raph’s interruption. I remember him telling us those before but I cannot remember them all.

Mike starts. “First is _gi_ – integrity. It means to be honest and truthful in all things; not just ‘don’t tell lies’ but also be honest with yourself first and foremost. That means making a commitment to your decisions and standing by them. It means being true to yourself and not lying to us about what you want, why you want it, and how it will help you live your life the way you want to.”

Don chimes in. “Respect is _rei_. It means more than just ‘be nice to each other;’ it also means that you are courteous to all, friend or foe. Think of the golden rule, for instance. Part of it is ‘don’t claw your sister when she taunts you.’” and I guiltily glance at Hippolyta, whose ears and eyes are down and she refuses to look at me. “Focus on that part for now. Then we’ll discuss being respectful to neutrals and enemies.”

Raph continues the lesson. “Next is _yu_ , courage. That means accepting and taking risks, living life to the fullest. But not blindly; be smart in what risks you take. Know the difference between taking a risk and making a gamble; you can affect a risk, not a gamble.”

“Then there’s _meiyo_ , honor,” Leo says softly. “The only person who can judge your honor is yourself. We, as your brothers, and Master Splinter, as your _jonin_ , may come to our own conclusions but it only your own sense of honor that you must bow to when making a decision for yourself. Those choices you make and how you make them define who you are.” He looks at me. “Some may have said that abandoning the only life you knew for just a _chance_ at something better was foolish; others would argue that escaping from a caged life for a glimpse of the sky is worth anything. When making a choice, it is your duty to be honest with yourself and act according to what you think is honorable.”

Mike continues once Leo nods to him. “ _Jin_ means compassion,” he says cheerfully. “Like everything else in our lives, it has two sides. It means ‘don’t be a bully’ and it ties in with the golden rule, too. As ninja, we have skills and talents that make fighting against us a really one-sided battle for most thugs. We don’t hold it over them and we don’t go looking for a fight. Well, mostly.” He sticks his tongue out at Raph, once again ruining the solemn mood Leo has been trying to maintain. “And besides _avoiding_ fights, it means looking for ways to be compassionate. Things like finding a lost dog or returning stolen property, or just giving someone a shoulder to lean on when they need it.”

Don continues, frowning a little at Mikey’s antics, “Honesty and sincerity is _makoto_ , and it means keeping one’s word without actually having to promise. We often forget to tell each other that we will watch each other’s backs on patrol simply because it doesn’t need to be said. It is assumed, it is understood. Though we make promises, too, just because we don’t say those words doesn’t mean it isn’t a point of honor with us.”

“Finally, _chu_ means duty and loyalty,” Raph says gruffly. “Honor and compassion tie into a sense of loyalty, but it is a separate value as well because it goes beyond just lookin’ out for each other. It means accepting responsibility for everything you say and do, owning up to the consequences.”

The leader continues. “There is also the tradition of _seppuku_ , ritualistic suicide rather than failure or disgrace. We have never failed so badly as to bring to question our continuation, but that choice rests only with each individual and only in context. Death with dignity, we all agree, is preferable to a slow and painful decline. Should your wounds prove mortal in battle or afterwards, and should you wish it, you may claim your own life or ask one of us to do it for you with no ill will between us. If you do not, then you will not be asked to submit; we will respect your choice.”

I shiver involuntarily at the quiet strength in Leo’s voice as he speaks. “However, if faced with disgrace and dishonor, we will _always_ prefer to have you alive than lose you to an uncertain outcome. You will have to decide how you wish to face such situations. And while we try to avoid them… There are times when we cannot. For now, however, it is enough that you understand that you will _never_ be asked to take your own life.”

“What he means is, if you’re captured, don’t kill yourself unless it’s the only option and you want to end your suffering, potential or real. We never stop looking for a lost family member,” Raph says lowly. There’s something steely beneath his voice and he glances at Leo, who nods with an unreadable expression. I notice that Hippolyta’s ears are forward and she nods as if she’s heard something about this before.

“I’ll need flashcards,” Hermia says after a long moment of silence.

“You can borrow mine!” Mike immediately replies with a grin. Leo glances over at Mike in both surprise and frustration. “Don’t look at me like that, I had to study this stuff! You were _born_ spouting it!” The leader turtle rolls his eyes a little.

“Any questions?” Don asks us. I think all of us have too much to consider before we can reliably voice our questions. The genius turtle nods as if he did not expect any queries and the four turtles stand up, motioning for us to do the same.

“Then we’ll start you all on posture and breathing for today,” Leo says. “Every morning after our practice, you will come to the dojo for training. For today, we’ll work as one big group. If you feel pain, stop – we won’t push your bodies yet.” There is a sparkle to his eye that says he will push us, hard, when the time comes.

First we begin by re-learning how to breathe, drawing air in through the nose, fully into the lungs, and breathing out through the mouth. The synchronized breathing is quite calming, particularly since we take long, deep breaths. I imagine there are techniques for energizing one’s self through breath as well, but the purpose of today’s lesson seems to be control and technique. With each inhale, we bring our hands, palm up, from belly to chest; then turn the palms down and breathe out while lowering our hands again.

After several minutes of practice, I actually feel happier and have more energy than I have had all week. The shock of all the changes facing us has been telling on our moods and lack of energy, as has the lack of hobbies. We have all started finding ways to keep ourselves entertained. Noticing the same perked ears and bright eyes in my sisters, I can tell that I am not the only one so affected.

**Leo’s POV**

With the new trainees breathing and starting to show signs of restlessness in the tick of their tails or position of their ears, I nod to Raph to make the first comment on our students’ postures. Things that are as natural as breathing to us, like not locking our knees, will need to become second nature to our new family members before we get into any sort of martial arts.

“Keep your knees bent,” Raph growls as everyone except Lysander. I am not sure if his ‘knees’ – technically his ankles – actually can straighten fully. “Never lock a knee.”

“You’re going to hate it, but any time we see a locked knee, we’ll kick it out from under you,” Mike warns as the women and Oberon flex their knees gently, trying to figure out how far bent they should be. “Unless you’re carrying food. Or pregnant, I guess.” He glances at me and then at Don, who nods firmly. “Then maybe we’ll just tickle you,” the youngest turtle jokes, smiling at Titania.

“Our point is to make standing with your knees bent feel more natural than your current position,” I add. “Don?”

“According to my studies, you five have basically the same posture issues as humans,” Don tells them, nodding to women and Oberon. “Lysander, you, ironically, stand _too_ straight for your skeletal structure. Come with me.” Lysander and Don move off a few feet and Don works with the parrot-man to correct his posture. He encourages Lysander to lean forward until his spine straightens, putting his head in line with the rest of his body and tilting his head sideways instead of upwards to see things above his height.

Raph pairs up with Hippolyta and Hermia, Mike with Aemilia, and Titania with me. We have them put their backs to the wall, pressing their heels, rears, and shoulder blades to the wall. I know it feels awkward for them; I can see the frown of concentration on Titania’s face as she tries not to lower her head forward. Such a submissive posture is learned and I hope that even this simple relearning will help them understand that they are no longer, nor ever will be, slaves.

“You all round your shoulders and keep your chin tucked in,” I tell the group as they step away from the wall and then back to it, trying to make the change comfortable and natural. “Your head should sit directly over your shoulders. Lift your chins a little and tuck in your waist. Think of tightening the muscles in your rear and tucking your tail slightly under yourself.”

“Keep breathing – in through the nose, out through the mouth,” Raph adds, slipping his hand between the wall and Hermia’s lower back. “This is how much bend in your spine you should have; no more, no less.”

**Hermia’s POV**

“Hermia,” Don says, coming back over after a few minutes with Lysander, “you also have a mild case of scoliosis, which is when your spine curves like this.” He traces an ‘S’ in the air and I blink a little; that’s not good, right? “Side to side. Most people suffer mild to moderate discomfort, but the primary long-term effect is spinal disk degradation.” Mike sighs loudly at the purple-banded turtle. “Spinal disks are like shock absorbers; your alignment is wearing them down. Cases like yours, mild and easy to treat, are typically cured with a simple brace.”

I step over to Don when he beckons, a little awkward as I try to keep my posture away from the wall and keep my knees slightly bent. Don pulls a harness from the closet. “Mike helped me make this for you; I’ll show you how to put it on.” I smile at both turtles in gratitude.

“We made it flexible so that you can move in it without pinching; it’s also adjustable so that as your spine straightens we can loosen certain areas.” Don has me stand with my feet braced apart after stepping through two hoops. He slides the straps around my body, carefully showing me how to do it myself. It helps with the regular posture, too, which in turn helps me remember to bend my knees. “You can wear it under your regular clothing, too, if you want. It’s washable.”

Wearing the new brace, which hugs me comfortably, I return to the wall and practice standing. It’s odd that simply breathing and standing correctly could be considered training, but I guess a good foundation is vital for future movements. After all, we learned the small things before trying bigger things back at the base. I try not to think about that time.

After nearly an hour of this, I’ve become used to the brace and the stance is beginning to feel a little more natural. We start walking short laps around the room, trying to keep that stance and not lock our knees. It’s easier to do when walking than when standing.

“Remember, heads up; you’ve been walking all your life, you don’t need to watch your feet,” Mikey says encouragingly. He taps Aemilia’s chin to remind her and she nods seriously.

“Alright, that’s good,” Leo orders. “We’ll do some slow stretching now.”

We line up, the turtles facing us. I stand in front of Leo, conscious of my posture. He makes it seem effortless; I hope it’ll come that easily to me. First, we bend over and touch our toes – easy enough. And for stretching, we _do_ lock our knees, which feels strangely awkward after so long remembering not to do that.

For turtles with shells, the boys are quite flexible. We pleasurers, of course, are supremely flexible. Oberon has a little trouble moving, but he’s easy going and follows along without complaint. Some of the stretches are physically impossible for Lysander so he simply watches when we sit with our heels together and stretch forward.

“Watch this!” Mikey shifts one leg over and lays his plastron on the floor. His brothers roll their eyes; they can get close but not quite that far down.

“Oh yeah?” I laugh and open my legs fully into a sitting split, leaning forward until my chest is on the floor and my legs make right angles with my torso. My sisters copy me without issue.

“God _damn_ ,” Raph mutters under his breath; I doubt he thinks we can hear it. Hippolyta winks at him and he smirks back. Those two are the textbook example of sexual tension and it would probably be best for everyone if they simply coupled, but of course Master Splinter has laid down the law there.

“How flexible are you?” Leo asks me curiously.

I grin and stand up with my sisters. First, an air split – we raise our right legs straight up, torso remaining in line. Then we continue over until we’re making what Master called the “2 o’clock” position. After an appropriate pause, we reset to the split and rotate our hips so that our knees rest on our shoulders. We bend our knees, our feet facing the audience, and wiggle our toes at the boys. Mikey’s jaw drops and Raph mutters a curse, which Leo promptly calls him out on.

Then we lower our right legs and Hippolyta and I each grab one of Titania’s feet. She trusts her weight to us as we pull apart until she’s in a full split. Then we come together and her hips easily flex until her feet are level with her head.

Meanwhile, Aemilia bends over backwards and walks her torso through her legs. She stands on her hands and lowers her hips until her butt hits her back and her legs stick out in front of her. Then she turns her head a full half-turn around. She lowers herself to her chest and sets her upper arms and calves on the ground, becoming a tightly squished ball with a grinning face held between her hands.

“Well…fuck me sideways,” Raph says out loud, apparently unperturbed by Leo’s previous warning.

“If you insist,” Hippolyta snickers.

“Raph!” Leo barks at the same time.

“One more,” I chuckle, setting Titania back on her feet with Hippolyta’s help. I lie down and pull my legs up, putting them on the floor above my head. Then I sit up again, keeping the tops of my feet pressed to the mats; Hippolyta holds my arms and I can almost sit in a natural position again.

“We can all do this,” Titania says calmly, hands folded as she sits back down to copy Leo once more. Leo’s still in the same position.

“Your natural and trained flexibility will be of use to you in ninjutsu,” Leo comments in return. I grin at the surprised happiness in his voice. There’s sexual heat in Raph and Mikey’s eyes; even Don looks a little affected. I’ve noticed, though, that Leo has excellent self-control and tries never to let anything catch him off guard. Of course, we manage to catch him off guard a lot, but he’s fast at hiding his reaction and better at concealing it than his brothers.

Once we have finished stretching, Leo dismisses everyone. Lysander joins Master Splinter to watch their stories. Titania goes to work on completing the last of the alterations needed to everyone’s wardrobe. She turned out to be the best at sewing, after Mikey showed us all how to do it. Don and Aemilia head for the lab while Raph and Hippolyta bicker about what show to watch in the second living room. Mike and Oberon play tug-o-war with an old rope, the dog-man growling playfully at the turtle and dragging him around the living room.

This is our schedule for several days as Leo both tests and builds our strength and flexibility. I don’t suffer the kicked-out-knee as often as my sisters and Oberon, Titania excluded, due to the brace on my torso. After the first couple of days, I wear it under my shirt and pants as it has a habit of snagging on door handles or being a convenient grabbing place when rough housing or playing with one of the boys or Oberon. Even Leo playfully used it to pick me up once when I was in his way in the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated! Some more character development and fluff before we get to the intense bits!


	14. Dinner Party

**Chapter 14: Dinner Party**

**Hermia’s POV**

Leo and Mike frown in concentration as they work through the menu for tonight’s celebratory dinner. I take another drink of cold water and check on my own project – a beautiful pork shoulder roast. It’s been cooking for several hours already and I want it to come out perfectly.

“Alright, so for appetizers, we’ll have mushroom and three-meat pizzettes, chips and dips, and fried ravioli,” Leo finally agrees. “For dips, how about the spinach-artichoke and pomegranate guac? And we can add some salsa for Casey.”

“And for entrees, Hermia’s herb pork shoulder, baked polenta, carrots and asparagus with lemon, green bean casserole, and chef salad,” Mike adds, crossing out several other options.

“Dessert – chocolate cake with buttercream frosting. Plus chopped fruit and ice cream. Mikey?”

“I got dibs on the roses!” Mike replies instantly, grinning.

“Then I get dibs on batter,” I chuckle.

“Awww, honey-pie,” Mikey fake-pouts, batting his eyes at me. “Share?”

“Maybe, if you knock it off with the pet names.”

“But, sweetness!” He sticks out his tongue.

“Hermia, want to help me with entrees while Mike works on appetizers?” Leo asks, interrupting our playful bickering and tacking the menu on the fridge for reference.

“Sure,” I agree. I quickly wash my hands and arms up the elbows. “I’ll start on prepping the veggies and mix the dressing for the salad.”

Leo nods. “Then I’ll get to work on the baked polenta and casserole. How’s the roast looking?” He washes his hands carefully, drying them on a dish towel I offer.

“Juicy.” I wave my tail happily. “I think it’s going to come out well.”

“I do love me a chick who can cook,” Mike teases, draping himself over me. I giggle and step out from under him and Leo whaps him gently over the head.

“Focus, Mikey.”

I pull out the two bags of carrots and several bundles of asparagus. I clear the table and set out my favorite cutting board – a block of wood with beveled edges that’s seen many years of use here. Quickly snapping the ends from the asparagus, I cut out any bad spots – not that there are many of those. Then I chop all the heads off of the carrots and slice them into 2-inch spears. Tossing both vegetables into a large bowl, I coat them with olive oil and slice several lemons in half to squeeze their juices into the veggies. After picking out the seeds from the lemons, I cover it in plastic and set it in the fridge to marinate until it’s time to start cooking.

“Did you seriously get pre-made dressing?” I ask Mikey, eyeing the bottle on the shelf in the fridge.

“Well, yeah, just in case, snuggluffagus,” Mike replies, rolling out pizza dough for the pizzettes. “And if we have leftovers-”

“We _always_ have leftovers,” Leo comments with a grin. He’s working on mixing boiled water, milk, and butter in with several cups of polenta.

“Then it’ll be easier to use that dressing.”

I pout at Mikey. “I almost think you _expect_ me to mess up the dressing.”

“Aw, babycakes, don’t be like that,” Mike pouts back at me. “A good chef is always prepared.”

I grumble good-naturedly and dig out the dressing ingredients. Mayonnaise, sugar, cider vinegar, ketchup, oil, pepper, garlic (of course!), salt, dry mustard, and paprika, plus hot pepper sauce for half of the dressing. Some of our group like spicy flavors and others don’t, so we always try to offer two options. I use the electric mixer to blend everything and, once I have a large batch, I pour half of it into a second bowl and mix in pepper sauce to give it a slight kick. Tasting it, I nod.

“Did I mess _this_ up?” I ask Mikey, holding out a spoon of dressing. Mike opens his mouth – his hands are busy rolling and pinching ravioli – and I pop the spoon in. He hums in thought, keeping the spoon trapped.

“Nicely done,” he laughs after a long moment, letting me have the spoon back finally. I glare playfully at him and toss the spoon into the sink.

“Hey, why don’t I get a taste?” Leo asks, looking over from where he’s trimming green beans.

I roll my eyes but the boys can tell I’m happy; my tail’s still wagging. I dip a spoon in the non-spicy mix for Leo and offer it to the blue-banded turtle. He licks the spoon and hums happily. “That _is_ good. Would you cut up the mushrooms?”

“Sure.” I toss that spoon in the sink and take out the button mushrooms. Washing my hands and the mushrooms, I then slice the mushrooms carefully and leave them in a bowl for Leo. He boils the green beans in salt water for only five minutes, which means they come out crisp and tender.

I check the roast; it’s still bubbling happily away, surrounded by onions, carrots, celery, and all the other veggies soaking in its juicy renderings.

“Mike, anything you need help with?” I offer, seeing as Leo’s got the casserole working and the polenta is in the oven.

“Want to try making pomegranate guac, angel heart?” He chuckles, nodding to the cupboard where the recipe book is kept. “Recipe’s in there. Just peel the pomegranate in a bowl of water so it doesn’t make a mess. Your fingers’re prob’ly better suited to it than mine.”

“Mike, do you _seriously_ need to keep calling her pet names?” Leo grumbles from the stove.

“She doesn’t mind! Do you, babushka?” His eyes twinkle as I giggle. I find the recipe in the book and start gathering the ingredients, including a couple pomegranates Leo bought just for this night.

“It’s adorable,” I admit. “Besides, Leo, it’s not like he means anything by it.” I fill a deep bowl with cold water and drop the first pomegranate in, using a knife under water to slice it open. The beady seeds inside squirt red juice when punctured, making the water turn pink.

“Other than to say you’re the best sister ever! The bee’s knees!”

I giggle and Leo groans good-naturedly. “Don’t you _ever_ run out?” he asks Mikey with a fond shake of his head.

“Nah, I got a whole, like, list I’ve been _dyin’_ to use. ‘Cept you aren’t much of a ‘bambi’ guy, Leo, no offense.” Leo snorts in agreement and turns back to his task.

“I need some good pet names for you, then,” I tease Mikey, carefully separating the seeds and their juicy outer coating from the white, spongy tissue holding them together.

“I’m king of the names, button cheeks.”

I pull a face over my shoulder. “Really? ‘Button cheeks’?”

“I was going for ‘button’ and then changed my mind half-way through,” Mike admits with a sheepish grin.

“You’re such a cheese ball.” I put the floating debris and a couple of bad seeds into a trash bowl and begin on the next pomegranate. My fingers are a little cold from the water but I don’t mind.

“The one and only!” Mike sets the completed pizzettes to the side with his prepped ravioli. He comes over to stand next to me and start working on the second dip, a spinach-artichoke with cheese that I think everyone will enjoy.

“Ever tried pom, dewdrop?” he asks as I finish the second pomegranate and carefully extract the seeds from the water, setting them on a paper towel to drain. I shake my head. “Try a few – you can eat the seeds if you want.” I pick up a small handful and pop them in my mouth, crushing them against the roof of my mouth with my tongue. The juice is a little tart and it takes a lot of seeds for just a taste. “Like it, daisy?”

“It’s pretty good,” I agree, crunching the seeds and swallowing them.

“Told ya, gum drop.”

“Dork.”

“Huggalump!”

I rack my brain for something else Raph might’ve called him within my hearing. “Doofus!”

“Jelly bean!”

“I’m gonna get a cavity from you two,” Leo grumbles, chuckling as I stick my tongue out at him. Mike does the same and I playfully flick his exposed tongue.

“Ow!” Mike whines, blowing the hit out of proportion and turning teary eyes on me. “Lambchop, you hurt me!”

“Give it up, Mike,” I chuckle. I mash the avocado in a small bowl and mix in the diced onion, cilantro, lime juice, salt, and pepper. Then I carefully stir in the pomegranate seeds to avoid crushing them as much as I can. “Where’d we hide the chips?”

“Top of the fridge,” Leo replies predictably. I jump up and spot them; I jump again to snag them down. Mike grins at me and I roll my eyes. Opening the package, I dip a chip into my newly made dip and taste it, humming happily. The onion adds a nice crunch and the pomegranate adds a tart note to the flavor.

“Ahh!” Mike demands, opening his mouth at me. I giggle and shake my head, stealing the bowl away. “Aww!”

“ _Leo_ gets some ‘cause _he_ hasn’t been calling me stupid names,” I tease, dipping the chip again and holding it out for the eldest turtle. Leo shoots a triumphant grin at Mike and takes the chip carefully between his teeth.

“Aw, precious!” Mike begs, coming after me. I squeak and duck around the table, keeping it between us. “Mookie-pookie bear! Muffin muppet!” He feints to the left and I head to my left to get away; he dashes right and grabs me in a bear hug. “Gotcha, my special star!”

“You’re going to spill the dip!” I protest through my giggles.

“Never, my fluffy paradise.” Mike keeps me firmly pressed against his plastron, the bowl between us, and frees one hand to dig into the bag I hold in my elbow, finding a chip. He sticks it in the dip and scoops some up quickly, popping it into his mouth. He rolls his eyes in exaggerated ecstasy. “It’s amazing, pineapple chunk.”

“What _are_ you doing?” Don asks incredulously from the door of his lab. I look over Mikey’s shoulder and spot him and Aemilia emerging from the lab. Aemilia’s looking at all three of us with a small smile.

“Poopsie wouldn’t share,” Mike explains, nodding to me and taking another chip.

“You’re gonna eat it all!” I squirm, trying to free myself; Mike’s so much stronger that, really, there’s nothing I can do to get free.

“Settle down, pumpkin.” Mike ruffles my ears and I glare playfully. “One more. It’s really good. Not as good as _you_ , of course, roo roo.”

“Don! You’d know! What names can I call Mikey when he gets like this?” I demand of the purple-banded turtle, snapping my teeth at Mike when he goes back for the chip bag again. He taps my nose in playful admonition.

Don tilts his head. “Oh, no, I’m not getting involved here,” he chuckles. He and Aemilia head for the lair entrance.

“Be careful,” Leo warns, whipping frosting in a bowl for the dessert. “And I want you back in an hour.”

“Yes, Mom,” Don teases, grinning. But he nods seriously, as does Aemilia. “Just going to check the security systems.” Oberon and Aemilia are the only two of us who have left the lair since arriving, but I’m not particularly eager to enter the stinky sewers again. I like the warm, clean, _fresh-smelling_ lair very much.

Leo nods and the pair leave, already chattering again. The door quickly closes to keep the stink and humidity of the sewer out.

“Mike, put Hermia down,” Leo sighs at his youngest brother. I play-snap again as Mike tries to sneak his hand into the bag of chips. “We’re not done yet.”

“But Leo! It’s so good!” Mike whines. He sets me on my feet, though doesn’t let me get away quite yet; his arm’s still firmly around my waist.

“You’ll get to eat all you want at the dinner. We’re cooking.”

Mike pouts at the eldest and finally lets me go. I quickly roll up the bag of chips and toss them back on top of the fridge. Then I cover the guac and leave it in the fridge. Mike finishes up his dip as I remove the polenta, checking to ensure it’s cooked through. I put it to the side, top wrapped in foil, to keep warm.

Mike loads the pizzas into the oven to bake, adjusting the temperature. I begin setting the tables, first spreading a pair of white cloths over them and then setting out a full service. Large plate on the bottom, smaller plate on top, bowl and dessert plates above the main dish space. Two forks – one for salad and one for the entrees – and a butter knife and steak knife for each, plus a spoon. Two glasses – one for water, one for juice or milk – and mugs for tea.

Mike and Leo continue with the last of the preparatory cooking of the feast as I drag the prep table out of the kitchen to serve as a space for the appetizers and the buffet line. I spread it with a white cloth and pour the bags of chips into large, wide wooden platters. Then I put out the bowls of dips, including a tub of Casey’s favorite salsa from the store, and the fresh pizzettes, which will cool by the time everyone starts eating. Mike drains his fried ravioli and brings them over in a bowl; I carefully taste one and nod in approval at the crunch on the outside and piping hot interior.

“Okay, cake’s in the oven and everything else is keeping warm and finishing up,” Leo announces as the hour designated for the start of the party approaches. He washes his hands of flour and other ingredients.

“Do we have a ladder?” I ask as I look around for a spot to hang the “Welcome” sign Titania sewed together. The bright blue lettering is cheerful on the white background and Lysander used paint to draw swirls around the stitched-on letters.

“Need a boost, snicker doodle?” Mike asks. I squeak as he leans down and hoists me onto his shoulder, hand on my hip to keep me steady. I automatically put one hand on his bald head to steady myself as well. “Where to?”

I giggle and point to a low-hanging pipe. Mike stands under it and I hold his upraised hands for balance as I carefully stand on his shoulders, the welcome sign in my teeth. He braces my calves and I shakily tape the welcome sign to the pipe, letting it hang a little off the bottom. I make sure it’s secure and carefully lower myself; Mike crouches so my feet can hit the floor and I slide off his shell.

“Ladders are safer,” I scold, swatting Mike’s arm now that I’m safely on the ground.

“I’d never let you fall, sugah boogah.” Mike bats his eyes.

I groan at the name and shake my head. “That’s just nasty.”

“Sweetiepie facecake?”

“Not much better.” Mike follows as I set out the appetizer plates and napkins.

“How about sweet thang?”

“Ugh.”

“Tiger toes?”

“Do I _look_ like I have tiger toes?” I ask, pointedly holding up one white-furred foot and flexing my claws.

“Tinkerbell!”

“I’m a _dog_ , dork, not a fairy!”

“Woofy!”

I half-heartedly throw a spatula at Mike, the closest thing at hand. But I can’t help giggling as he tags along after me, spouting off more pet names.

“Tootsie! Sparkles! Num nums! Puddin’! Puddin’ pop! Pookypoo!”

Raph and Hippolyta come over from the main living room and Raph rolls his eyes at Mike. “Geez, Mike, way to go full retard.” Hippolyta’s wearing a green shirt and blue jeans for the party; she, and Aemilia, decided to wear their regular clothes to the party. 

Mike throws the spatula I had tossed at him at his brother, _much_ faster and harder than I had. Raph bats it aside easily and it hits the floor.

“Hey, gentle on the utensils!” Leo orders, picking up the spatula and tossing it gently into the sink.

“Raph did it!” Mike immediately yelps.

Raph growls and rolls his eyes, heading for the appetizers. “Hey, wait for everyone to get here!” I tell the hothead, swatting his hand as he reaches for a chip from the bowl next to me.

Hippolyta snickers and grabs a chip while my attention is on Raph; I squawk in playful outrage and turn to thwack her gently. Raph immediately yanks a chip, too, and I huff at both of them, pouting, as they try the salsa dip.

Leaving them to their raid, I head for my room to get changed. I chose my outfit this morning; a shimmery blue dress that shows off my furry shoulders. I freshen up from all the cooking in the downstairs bathroom first and then get dressed quickly, brushing down my fur and checking to make sure my underwear isn’t showing. Unlike Hippolyta, my breasts are small enough that I don’t need to encase them in bras, so I don’t have to worry about straps peeking through. I check that my claws are trimmed and polished and come out from the bathroom.

Titania, Oberon, and Lysander join me as I walk out of the secondary living room.  Titania’s wearing a loose shirt that helps to hide her baby bump – she’s a little sensitive about the way it affects her figure – and black slacks. Her tail is swinging freely behind her and she looks freshly groomed. Lysander is naked, as usual, though he has a grey scarf that Titania knit for him wrapped around his throat. It’s a note of grey against his bright plumage; I suspect he asked Titania for help in getting preened for the party.

The door opens and April, Casey, Don, and Aemilia walk in. I swat Raph on the shell again for good measure, which he ignores as he continues to raid the chips, and go to greet the humans. Master Splinter, hearing their arrival, emerges from his room. He’s dressed in a beautiful yellow kimono with red trim and gold embroidery.

**Mike’s POV**

I hug April happily as she walks in with Don. “How’ve ya been?” I ask. It’s been a while since we’ve seen her; she’s pretty busy with her own life and stuff up top in the human world, after all.

“Good, good,” April chuckles. “Business as usual at the shop. And you haven’t gotten too badly on Raph’s bad side?”

“Nah,” I laugh. “He ‘n’ Hip are on a Game of Thrones binge-a-thon.” I gave Hippolyta that nickname ‘cause who wants to say… four! syllables just to get someone’s attention.

April grins a little sheepishly. “Yeah, I never really got into that series…” She blushes a little.

I shrug happily. “I taught Oberon how to play Mario Cart! We should totally play after dinner!”

“Play!” Oberon agrees, trotting over. He gives me a sloppy hello lick across my cheek, bending down. I laugh and hug him.

We’ve been working on his greetings and I told him that _I_ don’t mind getting doggy kisses but others in the family do. So he carefully offers April a hug instead of a doggy kiss. She hugs him without hesitation and reaches up to give him a good scratch between the ears, which makes his mouth fall open and tongue wag between his jaws. We’re still working on that, since stepping in drool makes Raph unhappy. As in hunt-Mikey-down unhappy.

The doorbell rings and I perk up, bouncing over to open the door for our last missing guest. He hasn’t met our new family members. “LH, hey!”

Leatherhead, or LH as I call him, dips his head in greeting and steps inside when I tug on his arm. He has to duck a little under the door but he can stand straight in the main lair. “Michelangelo, hello,” he rumbles in his deep voice. Raph can only _try_ to get as deep as my man LH!

“Come on, I wanna introduce you!” I ‘drag’ him over to Oberon, who sniffs at LH curiously. He’s a little stiff, but it’s uncertainty, not aggression. At least I hope.

“Oberon, this is Leatherhead – LH, Oberon. We rescued Oberon, Lysander, and the ladies from a human. They’re living with us now!” Oberon nods happily and LH offers his hand; the dog-man shakes his hand without hesitation.

“Mikey good friend!” Oberon announces with a happy bark, licking my face again.

“Good boy!” I laugh, tickling Oberon on the side. He jumps back with a playful bark, entire body vibrating. “Go get some food, Oberon.” I point to the appetizers and he whuffs in agreement, shambling away.

“He is an interesting gentleman,” LH says quietly.

“He’s attached to me,” I explain with a proud grin. “Puddin’ pop!” I wave Hermia over, who rolls her eyes at my continued antics – she’s so cute when she’s pretending to be mad at me! “LH, this is Hermia. Hermia, this is Leatherhead. He’s a friend of the family.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” LH says gallantly. He gently lifts her hand and, instead of shaking it, brushes his crocodilian snout across the back of her hand gently. Hermia giggles and I wish I’d thought of that!

“And you, Leatherhead,” Hermia replies, plumed tail waving. “Mike’s told me a bit about you, but I wasn’t expecting you to be such a gentleman. _Unlike_ a certain turtle.” She play-glares at me and I grin sheepishly.

“You love me and you know it,” I remind her. That line works on Raph and she just sighs in agreement.

I spot Titania and Hippolyta at the appetizer bar with Lysander and tug on LH’s arm. “Let’s get you introduced to the rest and then let’s eat!” I’m hungry – all that cooking makes Mikey want to eat!

“I hope I have a chance to converse with you this evening,” LH tells Hermia gently, not letting me drag him away even when I basically hang from his arm.

“I’d love that,” Hermia replies. Is it just me or is she blushing a little?

LH finally follows me to the appetizer table, where I introduce Titania, Lysander, and Hippolyta. “Leo’s starting to train them,” I explain as we turn our attention to the food. “And Hermia’s a great help in the kitchen.”

“I notice that you have expanded your home,” LH comments, tasting the salsa before scooping a good amount onto his small plate to dip his chips in.

“Yeah,” I agree, waving at the kitchen. “Had to open the wing, busted out the kitchen wall and lost a guest room to it. But look at how much more _open_ everything is!” I throw my arms wide, careful of my food, and spin in a circle to take in our newly enlarged lair.

“It is quite impressive,” LH agrees. He sits on the ledge separating the living and dining rooms; I flop onto the floor next to him. “And you have adopted these mutants into your family?”

“Mhmm,” I agree. We had offered the same to LH, but for several reasons, he had declined living in the lair with us. I blame Raph’s temper mostly. But we got him happily homed in another branch of the sewers, close enough to visit but far enough that discovery of one wouldn’t endanger the other.

Don and Aemilia join us and Oberon flops down behind me so I can lean against him; he is vibrating with excitement and happiness but he quickly falls asleep anyway. Silly guy can sleep through _anything_ and takes more naps than I thought possible!

Don and LH get off on a tangent of sciencey stuff, with Aemilia listening closely, so I get up, rub Oberon’s tummy briefly, and go find April to convince her to play with Oberon and me after dinner.

Leo, Father, and April are talking politely about business at the shop and recent events. I plop myself playfully on the couch next to Leo, half lying in his lap. “Whatcha talkin’ about?” I ask cheekily, grinning when Leo eyes me in exasperation.

“We were just discussing the mayoral campaign,” April answers, giggling a bit at my antics. I tilt my head back to look at her and then at my brother in mock surprise.

“Leo, you can vote?!” I jokingly gasp.

“Yes, Mikey, I just wandered on down to City Hall and registered to vote,” Leo quips, rolling his eyes. King of Sarcasm right here!

I widen my eyes and open my mouth to gape at him. “Dude, what’d they put on your registration? ‘Sewer District’? Oh! We should elect a rep for the sewers! Taxation without representation!” I holler loudly. That’s a phrase I remember from some of Donnie’s history shows that put me right to sleep.

“Mikey, we don’t _pay_ taxes,” Leo explains, shaking his head.

“But we don’t get representation to argue that we _should_ ,” I point out, pouting.

“Why d’ya _wanna_ pay taxes, idiot?” Raph grumbles from the other couch, where he, Hip, and Casey are talking about their favorite show.

“Taxation without representation!” I reply, sitting up and glaring playfully at Raph. “The people shall not be-”

“Mikey, they were talking about _humans_.” Don shakes his head at me; I’ve successfully interrupted every group chat.

“So? I’m a people!”

“Michelangelo,” Master Splinter says warningly, smiling indulgently. I grin sheepishly.

“Sorry, Father,” I giggle. But I’m already planning campaigns and Leo knows _that_ look in my eye; he groans and rubs his forehead.

“Mikey, please don’t…”

“Too late!” I chirp happily. “Ms. Ronda Cockroach has announced her candidacy against incumbent Mr. Richard Rat.”

“Who taught him those words?” Raph asks everyone incredulously. I stick my tongue out at the hothead.

“Ms. Cockroach for rep!” I chant, jumping up when Leo makes a move to cover my mouth. “You can’t kill perfection!”

“Mikey!” Raph gets up and pounces at me.

“Help! Help! I’m being oppressed!” I giggle, zipping around the couch. “Free speech, dude!”

“Free speech my foot,” Raph growls.

I mime holding out a microphone towards Raph, though I don’t get within his reach. “And what have _you_ to say on the candidates, Mr. Raph Ael?”

“I’m gonna feed ya yer shell,” Raph snarls, jumping over the couch. I yelp and leap backwards, jumping over Hermia carefully

“Save me, star flower!” I beg Hermia, putting her between Raph and me.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Hermia laughs, shaking her head.

“But, sweetie kins!” I give her my best puppy-dog eyes.

She throws a chip at me, which I grab and wag a finger at her. “That’s not very nice,” I tease in my best impression of Leo. I eat the chip, keeping an eye on Raph.

“Mike, calm down and let’s get dinner started,” Leo chuckles, standing up from the couch.

“But Leo! The people _must_ be-”

Raph pounces while I’m trying to convince our eldest bro; I yelp as he slams into me and knocks me onto the ground. With all my ninja training, I squirm and scrabble against Raph’s plastron, trying to get free. He yanks off my bandana and stuffs it into my mouth, muffling my shrieks.

“Mmpf!” I yell at him when he shifts to sit comfortably on my plastron, using one of Oberon’s toys to tie my wrists together. I really should make sure he can’t get his hands on anything rope-like when he catches me.

April grins. “It’s not a party until Raph’s tied Mikey up at least once,” she jokes to everyone in the room.

“Raph, let him up, he’s supposed to be helping me,” Leo says from the kitchen. I can hear the grin in his voice and pout at his shell; he should be _helping_ me!

Raph rolls his eyes but stands up, leaving me to figure out how to free my hands. I wiggle onto my side and inch-worm over to Oberon, who is still, miraculously, asleep.

“Oberon!” I call, except it comes out as a muffled “Awb-mm-om!” I nudge him in the side and Oberon’s eyes lazily open. I stick my bound hands in his face and he seizes the rope immediately, nearly biting me in the process. With a playful growl, he shakes the ropes and they loosen; I pull my hands free and pull out my soaked bandana with a grimace.

“Thanks for the help there, buddy,” I tell Oberon with a mock glare. His ears flatten in unhappiness, dropping the ropes. “I’m just kidding.” I scratch his ears and heave myself to my feet with a grunt, leaving my mask on the back of the sofa since it’s wet.

In the kitchen, I slip on heavy mitts and pull out the roast, which smells heavenly. I sniff appreciatively as I carry it to the buffet table, which Hermia has cleared of the appetizers, and set it on a wooden block to keep from burning the table or cloth.

We quickly get dinner set out and everyone picks up their plates to help themselves. I fill my plate with some salad, Leo’s green bean casserole, and a thick slab of pork shoulder. I sprinkle a little extra salt on the meat as I sit down at the table with Oberon, whose plate – which he filled himself! – is piled high with pork and baked polenta to try. He avoids vegetables usually but I saw Leo sneak a couple carrots under his pork while Oberon’s attention was elsewhere. Mother hen.

LH sits on the floor, since sitting in a chair would be really awkward for him. His head _still_ tops everyone else’s at the table and he uses a small bedside table from the store room to hold his plate.

Dinner is a noisy, happy affair with everyone talking across and over each other. The three mutants with dog genes are constantly wagging their tails, mostly unconsciously, I think. All of the mammals are relaxed in the face and their ears swivel to catch every conversation around them. I’m glad to see them enjoying themselves, especially with our human and crocodile friends. And I’ll convince them all to vote Ms. Cockroach for rep if I have to break into song!


	15. Blue

**Chapter 15: Blue**

**Hippolyta’s POV**

Training is interesting enough, I suppose. For now, Leo has us working on our posture and breathing, doing yoga, and then beginning the most basic of martial arts – learning to block simple attacks. We’ve been with our new family for nearly three weeks now and I feel completely at home most of the time.

Training was, at first, a little awkward to get used to, particularly since we clearly surpassed our teacher’s expectations when it came to flexibility. He mostly works with us on strength, which is actually Raph’s area of expertise and the hothead leads training as often as Leo does.

After training, I lounge on the couch in the smaller living room, fully aware that the clothing I’ve chosen to wear shows off my sexy-as-hell figure. We don’t work up much of a sweat in practice and I only do a cursory cleaning; I’m not nearly as prissy as Miss Tits. (I only use that nickname in my head; our relationship has healed but I’m hyper-sensitive of hurting her again. We are sisters and love each other, but with the freedom to become people in our right, Titania and I have found that we don’t share a lot of common interests.)

Raph is sitting on the other side of the couch, watching Game of Thrones with me. I’ve come to enjoy his squirming when the sexual scenes appear; he teases me about flinching at the bloody ones. He introduced me to the series and was chivalrous enough to start over back at Season 1 so I could catch up to the story. So far, it seems to be kings and men fighting over land and women.

My favorite character is definitely the Imp, the dwarf man named Tyrion. His introduction scene where he is getting it on with a bunch of whores had Raph practically sweating as he watched me for my reaction, seeing as until less than a month ago I _was_ a whore. But I had merely commented on the size of the women’s breasts and poked fun at Raph, and the hothead let it go.

I’m not ashamed of my past, and I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen; I don’t want any of them, particularly Raph, trying to coddle me in case I have some sort of melt down. Only Hermia and Aemilia have nightmares that occasionally wake everyone up when they scream, and I’ve heard one or both crying late at night, but Titania always sneaks one or both of them into her room to calm them down and cuddle the night terrors away. In addition, Don keeps telling us that if we need to talk, he’s always available and holds himself to the strictest confidentiality, yadda yadda.

Truth is, though, I don’t really mind my history and I’m not going to dwell on it. My attention now is on trying not to tease Raph into a fury of sexual frustration, though I get close sometimes, and learning from the turtles. For now, that’s enough. When I get bored of this routine, I’ll figure out my next hobby, like Aemilia and Hermia and Titania are already doing.

I can hear Leo and Hermia in the kitchen; they’re singing along to _something_ again. They’ll sing to anything they know the words to. Even commercials. And sure, they both have excellent singing voices, but seriously, life is _not_ a musical!

Mike and Oberon are playing with one of the many bits of rope and dog toys scattered around the lair. Mikey tosses it, Oberon fetches it, and they play tug-o-war until the turtle gives up. Oberon is not as strong as the turtle but his sheer bulk tells against the smaller mutant. And Oberon has discovered how to tickle Mikey until he is sobbing in laughter, which always makes Oberon deliriously happy. Mike also has been teaching Oberon how to play video games and they race cars in Mario Cart at least an hour every day.

Titania is in her room, probably grooming herself for the thousandth time today. Titania’s belly is starting to round out and Leo is very careful about overworking her in training. Don keeps an eye on her as well. Her breasts are swelling with milk, which Don says is a good sign that her body isn’t going to try to reject the litter. Since cat pregnancies are about two and a half months and human ones are nine months, we’re not even trying to set a “due by” date and Don’s playing it by ear.

Don and Aemilia are probably tinkering in the lab, seeing as that door is shut. Those two are as thick as thieves and chatter over everyone’s heads now that Aemilia has caught up on the lingo. They’ve only caused one explosion so far that coated both of them with printer ink; Don still looks a little darker than usual and Aemilia had to soak out the ink in a bath for a couple hours. She’s grown used to showers though prefers to keep them short.

Lysander and Master Splinter are watching their stories, talking quietly during muted commercial breaks. They’ve become quite close; I think Master Splinter appreciates having someone who acts a little more mature than the turtles to talk to, someone he hasn’t raised all their lives. Not that the boys are immature (even if Mikey can act that way), but they are very different from their father in terms of personalities. Leo’s the closest to the rat and even then, the relationship of master and student overshadows that of father and son.

“Lunch time!” Hermia calls out. The kitchen’s been filling the lair with delicious smells all morning and I eagerly hop up. I make sure my back is turned to Raph as I bend over to pause the show, flexing my hips. Teasing the hothead has quickly become my favorite past time. The whiff of pheromones, as weird as they smell coming from a turtle, is intoxicating.

“Coming?” I ask Raph innocently, running the tip of my tail along his thigh. His pupils dilate and I smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard ‘em,” he grunts, falling back on his usual escape – acting all tough. He bats my tail away and stands up, following me into the living room. I accept a stack of plates from Hermia and set them out; Raph follows with the utensils, setting the places quickly. Aemilia and Don wander out of the lab discussing something in quiet, but eager, voices; Titania walks out of her room yawning quietly. She has become more lethargic recently, though maybe she just isn’t sleeping well.

“Mikey, Oberon, wash up before you help,” Leo orders from the kitchen. Mike keeps Oberon from getting too dirty, giving him baths every few days, but they quickly comply and Oberon keeps his tongue to himself while we all help set out lunch.

The sheer amount of food we go through is mind boggling to someone used to eating the scraps from the humans’ tables. Leo made two large pots of beef stew, which has been simmering since last night; the meat will be fall-apart tender. Hermia brings out two large loaves of bread, already sliced, that steam from the oven. Those two love to bake together and bread is at least a little healthier than cakes and desserts.

Mikey and Oberon each bring out two large bowls of salad, one of which is placed in Lysander’s usual spot on Master Splinter’s right. The other is for the rest of us to share, along with a platter of lemon-basted asparagus stalks. Everyone drinks water for the first glass; there are pitchers of milk, juice, water, and cold tea for enjoyment after the water. The turtles require more water each day than we mammals and Lysander, but we adopted the habit automatically.

Once all the food is out and everyone is seated, the serving dishes start moving around the table, passed from left to right. I help myself to the salad first; it’s lettuce with tiny whole tomatoes, crumbles of bleu cheese, bits of bacon and ham, slices of cucumber (which I dislike and thus avoid in the bowl), and a light lemony dressing tossed in. I pass the salad off to Raph, who nods his thanks and serves himself. Accepting the platter of asparagus from Aemilia, I take a couple of stalks to be polite and pass that along. I’m mostly eager for the stew which has been taunting my nose all day. I take a hearty bowl of it and a slice of wheat berry bread to dip into the hot broth.

“Did you try something different with the sourdough?” Don asks Aemilia curiously, nibbling on a slice of bread.

Aemilia grins and nods happily, tail waving behind her. We had to find chairs with holes to fit our tails while the turtles sit in the ones without holes, since their tails are tiny and kept tucked up. “I read about some different types our sourdough online and added a chopped onion,” she replies. “How’d it come out?”

I take a slice out of curiosity and try it; it’s got a pleasant onion under-taste that lingers. I like onion, but I know Raph doesn’t particularly, so I offer the plate of wheat berry bread to him instead. “It’s good,” I tell my sister with a hum of approval. Don and Leo echo the compliment and even Titania tries a bit, though she’s not the biggest fan of sourdough.

“What’s the plan tonight, Fearless?” Raph asks, leaning around me to catch Leo’s eye. Leo hums thoughtfully. The boys leave every night for patrol, now that we’re trusted not to try and eat Master Splinter or run around outside. Even if it wasn’t a nasty sewer, I wouldn’t want to leave this warm lair anyway. They started back on patrols last week, but they keep them short – a couple of hours, four tops, finds them back in the lair again.

“I have a suggestion,” Don offers. Leo nods at him. “Well, we were thinking that it’d be nice to get started on a vehicle for the girls, in case we need to move everyone. We _might_ all fit in the truck, but it’d be cramped and uncomfortable.”

“And I would enjoy learning about engines from more than textbooks,” Aemilia admits, smiling softly with a glance at Don. “Don has promised to accompany me to the garage soon and show me how to work on your vehicles.” Saw that one coming a mile away. I wonder if they’ll work on other things together… Hehehe.

Leo nods slowly. “It’s best to be prepared.” I snicker and roll my eyes in perfect time with Raph, which has the rest of the table laughing at the pair we make and Raph whapping me over the head in a friendly manner.

“My son is having a bad influence on you, Ms. Hippolyta,” Master Splinter says, amusement warring with concern and a touch of warning on his face.

“Aw, Father,” Raph grumbles, glaring at his bread and fidgeting a little under the table. The turtles are now used to calling the rat “Father” instead of “Sensei” but the rest of us still refer to him as “Master Splinter. “

“She was always contrary,” Titania puts in, smiling. “Maybe spending some time with Mike will help even out Raph’s influence.” She grins at me and there’s a feral glee to her smile.

Mike yelps and I glare at my sister. Titania’s eyes flick upwards and I lean my head back to see that Raph has the same expression as I do, though this one is pointing at Leo instead of Titania; the blue-banded turtle is chuckling.

“Don’t ya dare, Fearless,” Raph growls.

“Titania’s suggestion aside, do I really need to remind you two of the rules, _again_?” Leo asks. I roll my eyes.

“No, ya don’t, Fearless,” I growl in a perfect imitation of Raph. Raph stares at me and then back at Leo with a self-satisfied shrug.

Leo shoots me a half-hearted glare. “I don’t like that coming from Raph, let alone _you_ , Hippolyta,” he says.

“Well, that’s the best nickname. What else would I call you?” I purse my lips in exaggerated thought. “I guess I might call you Blue…”

I’m not prepared for the reaction. Leo’s face goes completely blank and he drops the spoonful of soup he’s been holding. His eyes zoom out, looking into the distance, and I can hear his teeth grind as he clamps his mouth shut. His entire body goes rigid, losing all the natural and trained grace he’s worked his whole life to build. Something about the way he shrinks in on himself makes him look utterly vulnerable and animalistic.

Don’s immediately out of his seat and sprinting for the lab, nearly knocking over his glass which Aemilia catches automatically. Next to me, Raph jumps up and heads for Leo with Mikey, who looks uncharacteristically serious. They grab Leo’s arms and haul him upright to his feet while the rest of us stare in confusion. Mike shoves Leo’s chair back with his foot, clearing the space around the eldest. Raph drags Leo’s bandana off his head with one hand and pulls his own off with the other, shoving it into Leo’s unresponsive hand and closing his fingers around it.

“Leo, come on, snap out of it,” Mikey calls quietly, snapping his fingers in front of Leo’s face. Leo seems not to register; he blinks once, slowly, and then a pitiful sounding _whine_ escapes from his clenched jaw. It’s not a sound I’ve heard coming from any of the boys, but it sounds kind of like Oberon when he’s trying not to piss himself in fear.

“He’s in too deep,” Raph grumbles, gently pressing a finger to Leo’s neck to feel his pulse. The hothead sounds concerned and there is no growl in his voice at all; in fact, he sounds oddly paternal. Leo’s fingers twitch over the red silk of Raph’s bandana but he can’t seem to close his hand; Raph holds it closed for him.

“Raph, catch!” Don throws a syringe across the room and Raph snatches it out of the air easily. “I’ll prep the infirmary bed.” He heads into the lab again and Aemilia finally fights free of paralysis to run over and help if she can.

Raph pops the top off the syringe and jabs it into Leo’s neck, emptying the contents into the leader with a grimace. Leo’s skin visibly shivers and his eyes close; his entire body goes limp and Raph scoops him up bridal style. Mike checks his pupils.

“He’s out,” the jokester murmurs, pressing his hand to Leo’s head. “Go ahead.” Raph carries Leo into Don’s lab and we’re left in silence. No one’s paying attention to their food anymore.

“What…” I manage, trying to figure out what I just did.

“That is the name the humans gave him when he was captured and tortured,” Master Splinter replies quietly, sorrow in his voice. I feel my stomach drop and turn to the aged rat, knowing my horror reflects in my eyes. He cuts off my stammering gently but firmly. “You need not apologize, Ms. Hippolyta. You could not have known. Leonardo will recover; such attacks have happened before.”

“Don says it’s a catatonic state brought on by a triggering event,” Mike adds, voice serious as he sits back down next to Oberon. But he picks at his food instead of eating again; the big dog-man wraps a large arm around the turtle’s shoulders. “He hasn’t had one in a while, so it’ll hit him hard. He’ll wake up in a few hours and come out when he’s ready again. Don will stay with him, make sure he doesn’t try to hurt himself in confusion or fear.” Mike leans into Oberon’s side and sighs quietly, downcast.

“Um…” Hermia glances at the door to the infirmary and then at Mike and Master Splinter, confused. I at least know a little about the story, at least the length of time Leo was tortured by the humans, but… I had no idea he was this badly affected. I thought the tremble in his hands had been from some physical impairment, some sort of brain damage done by the torture. Could it be psychological instead, some part of his mind trapped in torture and shaking from remembered pain and fear?

“Two years ago, my two eldest were at odds with themselves and each other,” Master Splinter begins to explain, stroking his whiskers nervously. Lysander and my sisters left at the table listen intently while I try to fight down tears of fear and anger at myself. “They fought and, as usual, Leonardo went after Raphael, who escaped to the surface trying to run from his demons and from his brother. Leonardo was captured by our enemies, the Foot; they sent him to a human lab for testing and training. He was broken down and trained into an instinctive creature, losing his sense of personhood, of humanity if you will, for a time. Then he was tortured.” Master Splinter sighs sadly. I can’t even imagine the ever-controlled Leo taming down or giving in to torture, but maybe his projected strength and confidence is just another wall of protection against thinking about what happened to him.

“He was held by the humans for over half a year before we found him and successfully retrieved him. The scars he bears are ones he struggles with daily, though daily he continues to force himself to face his fears and heal.” Terrified, I wonder if I’ve really hurt Leo and risked his recovery.

“You have done nothing wrong, Ms. Hippolyta,” Master Splinter repeats. “Please do not blame yourself for something that you could not possibly have predicted.”

“But, Master Splinter, I…” I shake my head, unwilling to forgive myself as easily as that. “He… I… I shouldn’t have said anything!”

“Don’t treat him like he’s fragile,” Raph growls, suddenly standing over me. I meet his eyes, tilting my head up; his eyes soften a little at the terror and hatred for myself that he can probably see in my expression. He left his bandana off and looks odd without it framing his eyes, making it easier to read his expression. “He hates that. He’ll be back to himself soon, just… Don’t call him that.” I force myself not to sniffle and Raph awkwardly sits down next to me and holds up one arm; I press into his side for comfort as well as reassurance that I’m not going to find myself outed of the lair or even killed.

After several minutes of silence, with Hermia still looking intently at the lab-turned-infirmary door, Mike suddenly speaks up. “It took a month just to convince him he wasn’t still back there,” the youngest turtle murmurs. I can hear the tears in his voice and he refuses to look up, burying his head instead into Oberon’s warm shoulder. “He couldn’t sleep on his own for a year; he still has nightmares every night and sometimes we have to snap him out of them if he gets too violent. He used go catatonic at the sight of _anything_ strange or medical; then he began to get a little better. He only started wearing his bandana again eight months ago, and only really stopped flinching from it in the last few months. He’d go down around white poles, like ski poles or what blind people use to get around; or from chopped pieces of fruit – I guess that’s what they fed him on – and tofu. He still can’t eat tofu and he used to love the stuff.”

“I guess… What happened to us was terrible by your reckoning, but to us it is simply a fact and not to be mourned. But to one who knows that life is, can be, _should_ be better… Such an experience would not be easy to live through,” Titania thinks aloud after several agonizing seconds of silence.

I can feel Raph nodding in agreement and shiver, which makes Raph rub his thumb on my shoulder in comforting circles. “He’ll be fine,” Raph murmurs so no one else can hear. “He’s already fighting the drug off, like he’s supposed to.”

“Can I… Can I go see him?” Hermia asks Master Splinter timidly. Master Splinter nods and Hermia is up like a shot and into the lab as if loosed from a cannon.

“Come on,” Raph mutters, standing and pulling me along with him. He leaves the cleanup to Mikey and Titania and Oberon and leads me into his room, somewhere I haven’t been before. I sit on a hammock strung between the two walls, wiping my eyes on my hands. He settles on the hammock next to me and it gently begins to sway as he pushes off the floor with one toe. I stare blankly at the wall in front of me. The rocking is soothing but I can’t help but blame myself despite all the assurances from Master Splinter.

When Raph’s arm wraps around my shoulder again, I realize that I’ve closed my eyes and my cheek fur is soaked with tears. I rub my face with the back of one hand.

“I hurt everyone,” I mumble. First Titania, now Leo, have been hurt by my words and rash actions. I don’t want to train in ninjutsu, I realize; what if I hurt them physically, violently? I’ve seen Raph lash out at Mikey in play, but I’ve also seen him wail on a punching bag and I _know_ he could easily kill someone accidentally. I don’t want to be like that, I don’t want to have that threat hanging over me.

“Yeah, sometimes it feels like that,” Raph agrees gruffly. “Jus’ can’t seem to say anything right. Even when ya try, it comes out wrong and someone gets hurt.” I nod and can’t quite hold back a quiet sob. I turn and press my cheek into Raph’s shoulder, curling into his lap without really thinking about it. For once, I’m not trying to get a rise out of him; I just need something to ground me. He seems to sense this and his other arm rests across my hips, thumb rubbing circles into my spine just above the waist of my pants.

“All ya can do is apologize and remember not to do it again,” the turtle rumbles. “And don’t dwell on it. Leo hates being reminded of something he can’t control.”

I nod a little, understanding the instructions. I wouldn’t want to remember it myself, either.

“As far as nicknames go, you could always call him Lea,” Raph adds after several minutes. I blink and giggle despite my emotional storm that I’m trying to sort into some sort of coherence.

“There has to be a story there,” I say, pulling my head away from Raph’s shoulder to look up. I remain sitting in his lap, unwilling to move unless he does. For someone used to being touched a lot, every day, I’ve been longing for physical closeness besides just the occasional wrestle from Raph or one of the turtles correcting me in training. I’ve hugged Mikey back a couple times, but Mikey’s wary of hugging us females because he’s so much larger and we feel fragile, apparently. I think that’s bullshit and he just doesn’t want to risk becoming aroused. Besides, Raph doesn’t seem to be particularly eager to release me; his thumb is still rubbing circles in my spine.

“Eh, just something Donnie said back when we were younger. Leo got real testy, his claws grew longer and sharper. He shot up like a weed before the rest of us. And since turtle females’re bigger, Don thought Leo was turnin’ into a girl.”

I can’t help but giggle loudly at the picture of a gangly turtle teenager trying to convince himself and his brothers that he was _not_ growing a vagina or whatever turtles have.

“Mike used to call him ‘O Captain, My Captain,’ after a movie we watched with Master Splinter once,” Raph continues. “He didn’t mind that one; he’s always liked the precision of military stuff.”

“Leo’s got a thing for uniforms?” I ask, grinning when Raph does a double-take and glares at me a little. He laughs, though, after losing the battle to hold a stern look on his face.

“Don’t go there. Don’t wanna think about it,” Raph grunts, rolling his eyes. But I can tell he’s pleased that I’ve cracked a joke and am not beating myself up so badly anymore. “We called him ‘Weo’ after he got a bad cold and couldn’t speak right. He went through a ‘soul searching’ phase once and we called him ‘Spacey’ because he was always walking around with a vacant look.”

I giggle and ask questions as appropriate and Raph digs through twenty years of brotherhood for funny stories about Leo. He tells me about nicknames they all had for each other – how he’s Raph the hothead, Leo the Fearless Leader, Mike the jokester, Don the brainiac. Raph talks about his relationship with Leo and how it changed over the years as he challenged Leo for leadership and then realized his mistake and tried to repair the holes, how he still has to keep himself from snapping when Leo gets too high and mighty. In turn, Leo relies on Raph to keep him grounded and centered, to poke holes in his plans before the enemy can, to keep a second set of eyes on the youngest two turtles. I learn a lot about Raph and Leo both and about my new family in general. And the entire time, I’m curled happily in Raph’s lap and his thumb draws circles in my spine.


	16. Not so Fearless

**Chapter 16: Not so Fearless**

**Raph’s POV**

“Raph?” Hippolyta and I both look up sharply at Leo’s tentative knock. I cross the room quickly, opening the door. I probably shouldn’t have closed it with a woman in the room, but I can’t seem to care all that much. I don’t think Leo does, either; he looks past me and spots Hippolyta.

“Leo, I’m so sorry,” Hippolyta says, standing up. She’s tensed up again.

“I know,” Leo replies, not even trying to reassure her that she couldn’t possibly have known what that word would have done to him. He enters and I close the door again. I recognize the thin black book Leo’s holding and am a little surprised that he’s brought it.

He’s wearing his blue bandana again, a good sign that he’s recovered faster than ever before from one of these attacks. It’s been barely a couple of hours since he went catatonic, I think. I glance at the clock and realize it’s been closer to four hours. I hadn’t noticed the time while talking with Hippolyta.

Leo kneels in front of Hippolyta, motioning for her to sit back down on my hammock. She does and he catches her hand in his, looking into her eyes. “You cannot blame yourself for not knowing something, particularly something we kept secret from you on purpose.”

Hippolyta nods carefully, squeezing Leo’s hand in both of hers. “Raph says I can call you Lea instead,” she murmurs with a giggle. Leo glares at me and I smirk.

“How about you just call me Leo?” Leo suggests, smiling. “And if you _do_ try to nickname me, at least go with something unique.” Hippolyta purses her lips in thought. “But think about it some other time. For now, I want to show you something.”

**Hippolyta’s POV**

Leo hands me the book carefully and I open it to the first page obediently. I recognize Leo’s handwriting from the kanji symbols on Titania’s crib.

_Safe._

It’s written in several ways, lovingly brushed onto the paper in one corner and then jaggedly, heavily bolded in blocky letters. The sizes of the letters change randomly. It gives me an idea of how chaotic Leo’s return to himself must have been, at least at first. And the variation suggests he didn’t know it was a word but was simply repeating something shown to him.

I turn the page; there’s just some random scribbles. “March 14, 2014” is written in the bottom corner by what I recognize is Don’s handwriting.

The next page is lines, at least a little more organized than the scribbles. They loop and wind across the page. “March 21, 2014” is written in the bottom corner by Don again.

The page labeled “April 3, 2014” is next and it’s clearly a writing exercise. Leo drew out the alphabet repeatedly, tracing each letter several times. He then wrote short words – _dog, cat, rat._ On the next page, labeled the next day, he begins practicing sentences. _The rat sits. The dog barks. The music is loud._ Half of that page is spent re-learning how to write his own name. _Leonardo. Leonardo. Leonardo._ _Leo_.

There’s a couple of days between that and the next exercise, which is writing out his brother’s names. _Raphael. Raph. Hothead._ There’s a red crayon marking circling Raphael’s name. _Michelangelo. Mikey. Mikester._ He circled the shortest one in orange crayon and there’s a mark in the longest one that shows he originally misspelled it. _Donatello. Donnie. Don._ A purple crayon circles the second one heavily. Then _Leonardo. Leo. Fearless._ There’s a faint circle around “Leo” like he was supposed to mark that one; but then a heavier hand circled “Fearless” instead.

Another page seems to have been used as a notepad with which to communicate. _Tea?_ is written first, then right under it _Peppermint please_. A bit further down and to the left is _It feels too clean. I’ll be okay here._ After some random lines, probably drawn as an afterthought, there’s _How long was I gone?_ in big letters, as though he’s trying to make a point; I can imagine Leo trying to force his brothers to tell him without being able to speak. Several light dots seem to mean he pointed to it with the pencil several times.

I keep turning the pages as Leo uses the notebook more and more often to ‘speak’ to his brothers. Then I come to a new sort of entry.

_May 8, 2014._

_Don has told me that journaling is often used to help those suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I might as well use this. Don said to write whatever comes to mind, so it’s going to be odd. I still can’t go in my room; it doesn’t feel like mine any more. Mike cleaned it but… it smells too clean. Like a lab. I long for the grass in my terrarium, for the pond… I am a failure. I cannot heal if I still cling to captivity. I’ve had three attacks today; Don wants me to write about them so I can learn my own triggers and work on conditioning myself to not react so poorly to them. The first, when Mikey faked an Australian accent while talking to Raph in the kitchen. I can remember Aussie from the first month. I can’t exactly recall what she looked like or what she did with me, but I remember her accent. She was the one who named me Blue._

The word “Blue” is shaky and smudged, as though he had trouble writing it.

 _The second was when Master Splinter asked me to follow him – he used “Come.” It took everyone a while to notice that I was stiff. The third was when Mikey touched my right arm, when I stumbled. He brushed that scar and it threw me back to when they dissected that arm. And when he screamed, I thought it was_ me _screaming and bit a hole in tongue trying to stop the noise. I’m not sure why this is so hard to accept. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find out that it’s another hallucinogenic. When I do fall asleep, I have panic attacks because Raph keeps sleeping next to me and putting an arm around me – it feels like a restraint. But the alternative is to wake up screaming so I guess it’s better to suffer quietly._

There are a couple lines, as though Leo left off and then came back and wanted to indicate the break in his train of thought.

_I have considered that I’m dead and this is my version of the afterlife, but I don’t think any sort of god would put me in this hell. My body constantly aches and Don has robbed three separate hospitals to keep me from suffering a fatal withdrawal from the barbiturates; he won’t tell me what he’s been injecting me with. And apparently I have concentrated flunitrazepam in my system, which basically means I’ve been roofied for the past few months, which is probably why I’m having trouble recalling anything after Aussie._

I turn the page, engrossed.

_May 11, 2014._

_Don tried weaning me down too fast, he said. I had a seizure. My head hurts more than the rest of me, and he gave me more Valium but doesn’t want to risk mixing it with painkillers. Not that the scientists worried about mixing drugs in my system. I doubt he could do more than they did._

There’s some more, but it’s written in kanji and I can’t read it. Raph translates quietly. “He’s talking about his nightmare – for the first couple of weeks, he couldn’t remember them. Don told him to write them down when he could, so he could identify the memories as _past events_ instead of current ones.” Raph looks over my shoulder. “’Tonight, it was Aussie and Dr. Hamilton. They cleaned my shell off; I remember feeling so happy. I’m disgusted with myself for falling so quickly into instinct and letting go of my humanity. Master Splinter has taken away my swords or I would commit _seppuku_. Surely there is no regaining my honor after so thoroughly losing it.’” Raph’s voice is iron as he forces himself not to allow emotion through.

“But… You told us that _seppuku_ isn’t to be considered unless you’re in direct peril,” I whisper, looking at Leo. Leo nods a bit and glances at Raph.

“We had to convince him of that after we got him back,” Raph explains. “Since then, we’ve all… decided that Master Splinter’s original teachings are not how we want to live.”

“Did… Did he tell you to…?” I can’t bring myself to ask.

Raph hesitates and I can tell the question is one he’s also pondered for a long time. Leo shakes his head quickly, but something’s off about the denial, even I can see that. Raph growls and his fist clenches. “I didn’t leave his side unless Don or Mike was with him. I had to take over for Leo while he was… gone… and I told Master Splinter that I would decide when we returned to the surface and when Leo was ready to begin training again.”

I move ahead in the book, reading a sentence here and there. Most of it is repetitions of nightmares, always written in kanji; the rest, in English, is commentary on his recovery. He suffers several seizures that he notes. Don puts him on anti-depressants and he becomes a little more even-keeled in his emotions afterwards, no longer swinging straight from Raph-like fury to Mikey-like happiness, in his words. He admits to suicidal thoughts often, and openly; his brothers always talk him out of it, even once restraining him when he refuses to listen to reason.

He develops a dependency on the anti-depressants and Don has to wean him off those once he shakes his addiction to the sedatives. Leo’s constantly aching and his right leg, the one they dissected, often just fails and dumps him on his shell. He hates it and himself for not being able to bounce right back.

He begins to use the sensation of silk between his fingers as a stress-relieving “tactile trigger” to snap himself out of mild catatonia or to remind himself that he’s not with the humans any more. Since he was naked while captured, Don suggested the silk as something that he would only have felt if freed. That explains why Raph had shoved his bandana into Leo’s hand, trying to get him to concentrate on the feeling of silk instead of whatever he was experiencing in his head.

Leo suffers anxiety and insomnia from withdrawal and begins doodling in the journal when he runs out of words. The doodles go from random lines and shapes into sketches of the lair and his family. Mikey in the kitchen, drawn from an angle that suggests Leo is sitting on the floor. He looks stiff and angry. Don in the infirmary, hovering over the viewer with tender eyes. But there is an odd sense of disgust that seems to come out of the turtle, though for the life of me I can’t tell how Leo managed to draw it in. Raph’s head in his hands, his broad shoulders streaked in what is probably blood. His arms are tense and he looks ready to jump up.

Leo’s hand, amazingly detailed, every single nick and crease jerkily put down. Then Leo’s foot and leg, but drawn as though being dissected. I remember the ugly puckering scar running down that calf and shiver as I realize it’s probably a memory, not imagination, which fuels that one.

There’s another of a woman; she’s undefined except for a whistle in her mouth and a belt that holds several soft wide-mouthed pouches. Then a human shape in a lab coat, holding a scalpel over the turtle’s face. The blade is larger than life and chillingly sharp. His expression is of avid curiosity and the lack of empathy in it makes me want to throw the book away. Instead, I continue onwards.

Between the drawings, the words start disappearing until nothing but art decorates the pages. It’s horribly realistic, terrifyingly honest in its style. At first, Leo draws shakily, the lines jerky and hard as if he can’t get the picture out fast enough. Even his own brothers look hard and unforgiving.

Slowly, softer tones come in, blending grays in with the lines, smudging Don’s face to look less leery and more loving. Raph’s head-in-hands position changes from weary anger to sorrow, tears slipping through his fingers. Mikey in the kitchen becomes bouncy and playful, though subdued. The angles change, too, from the floor to slightly higher up, as though on a table or in a chair.

“This is incredible,” I murmur, looking up as I reach the end; I’m moving through quickly and skip every few pages to see the progress in his art. I’m surprised to find that the latest picture is dated three days ago and is of Titania sitting on the couch with a hand on her stomach, staring into space.

I turn back one page and find a picture of Aemilia and Don taking apart the toaster on the dining room tables. Aemilia’s listening intently and carefully screwing a panel back into the side of the toaster. I remember when they’d fixed it; that was about a week ago.

“It’s an ongoing habit,” Leo comments. He turns back one more page and I look at the picture of me with surprise and pleasure. He’s drawn me in the dojo, balancing carefully on a thin beam. My face looks serious but there’s also playfulness in my eyes; I’m staring straight ahead and my arms are to either side. I recognize Mikey standing next to me, ready to catch me if I slip; in the background, Raph and Hermia are doing the same on another beam.

I grin a little, handing back the book. “You’re very talented.”

“Practice makes perfect,” he replies, smiling a little and tucking the book under one arm. He stands up and walks out, leaving the door wide open with a pointed look at Raph, who huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Thanks,” I tell Raph, standing. He nods and I see myself out, intent on finding something to snack on; I never did finish lunch, not that I felt like it at the time.

**Titania’s POV**

With this information about Leo’s capture, I can see why the boys are so avidly against allowing us to roam the surface with them on their nightly patrols. Not that I am particularly eager to leave the clean, safe lair, and we have never been restless for larger spaces. Indeed, the lair is much larger than the areas of the base we frequented.

I sit with Mike and Oberon on the couch as they play their video game. Taking up my needle and thread, I continue my project. Using squares of fabric taken from clothing too small to fit us, I am sewing a patchwork quilt for my kittens. I take joy in seeing the project come together underneath my hands and realize that this must be how Aemilia feels when she builds things with Don.

My kittens grow rapidly and I am ravenous at meal times; Don has made it clear that I am to eat as much as I can. He says that we can worry about becoming fat _after_ healthy kittens are born. He takes it for granted that they will be healthy, or at least he acts that way around me. I ought to ask Aemilia what he truly thinks of the upcoming birth and how good a chance he gives my kittens.

I finish attaching a last square and shake out the quilt against my legs, admiring it momentarily. Mike looks over at the rustle of fabric and beams.

“That looks awesome, Ty,” he laughs. His nickname for me makes me smile every time I hear it.

“Pretty!” Oberon agrees loudly, body vibrating in happiness.

“Thank you,” I tell the pair happily. I carefully fold the blanket and put it on the arm of the couch.

“Wanna play?” Mike offers, handing me a controller. I fold my hands around it automatically and then blink at the all the buttons.

“I do not know how,” I admit. Mike bounces into the seat next to me; Oberon sits against my legs, grinning up at us.

“No worries, I’ll show you!”

There is nothing for it but to allow Mike to show me the two round joysticks and demonstrates pushing and pulling them with my thumbs. One controls the character’s direction of movement while the other controls the camera. Thus, he explains, one can walk sideways while looking “forwards” along the map.

Then Mike shows me what the buttons under each of my index fingers do; one shoots the video game gun, one zooms in and out, one throws a grenade, and one throws a secondary grenade, if my character is so equipped. The other buttons next to my right thumb are for reloading and switching weapons as well as other options that he says are not important for now.

“Alright, let’s try it out,” Mike laughs once he has given me a cursory training. I grip the controller carefully as the loading screen counts down to the match beginning. My screen is along the bottom and takes up the full width of the TV; Oberon is in the top right and Mike in the top left. Pushing my thumb forward makes my character walk forward; I swivel the camera around and wince as it turns too far, confusing me.

“Gotcha!” Mikey gently bumps Oberon with his knee, grinning. Oberon’s character has died; he whuffs unhappily as his character respawns. Despite his large hands, his fingers are nimble and he soon tracks Mike’s character back down; the two start battling for dominance on the screen. I am still trying to figure out how to move and look around smoothly, testing the sensitivity of the joysticks.

Within a couple of matches, I begin to feel comfortable with the controller and even manage to throw a grenade that catches Oberon’s character by surprise. It is my first confirmed kill and Mike congratulates me with a gentle slap on the back.

I grin and realize that I enjoy this much more than I thought I would. Mike’s bubbly character and Oberon’s good humor help me relax and stave off my constant worrying about my pregnancy. Don has warned me that stress is not good for pregnancies or kittens, but I worry even about worrying. Playing with Mike and Oberon takes concentration that sewing a quilt does not. Plus, I like how Mike squeals when startled in the game, like when my character pops up from behind a car and kills his with a melee attack.


	17. Chef Hermia

**Chapter 17: Chef Hermia**

**Hermia’s POV**

Five weeks since our rescue and I’ve never been happier. Leo’s training makes me feel alive and I love working on my balance and pushing myself to improve it. Mike keeps the morning training sessions from becoming too serious and we all break down laughing at least once before lunch usually. Even Raph seems pleased with how things are going in their newly expanded family – or should I say _our_ family. Don and Aemilia are quickly becoming practically bound at the hip as he teaches her everything he’s spent _years_ learning. And she just soaks it all up.

Coming out of my morning shower after training, I notice Leo heading for the kitchen and follow him. “May I help?” I ask ritualistically. He grins in welcome. “Are we preparing lunch already?” I glance at the clock on the wall; it’s only ten.

“I was going to bake a few loaves of bread; we’re running low on homemade stuff,” Leo explains, pulling out the bread oven from a lower cabinet. I start gathering the flour and other ingredients from the pantry.

“What flavors?” I ask, eyeing the available ingredients in the pantry.

“Have I shown you challah?” Leo asks. I shake my head. “Okay, then definitely that. For lunch, we’ll make something to pull apart and dip – garlic and cheese, I think. And of course sourdough, potato, and wheat berry.” I grin; I have come to love sourdough bread, which is also Leo’s and Mike’s favorite. Oberon and Don will eat anything and Lysander has found that he can digest small amounts of potato bread, so he likes having it at least once a day. Titania and Aemilia love wheat berry, as does Raph. “What sounds good for breakfast breads?”

“Mike mentioned wanting more cinnamon raisin,” I say after a moment’s thought.

“Good idea.” Leo pulls down a large tub of raisins and puts it on the prep table in the middle of the kitchen, next to the buckets of flour, sugar, salt, and other baking goods. I add herbs and spices from the pantry, including several whole gloves of garlic. I love garlic; I can eat garlic with anything.

Leo washes his hands and I do the same. Titania still hates water, but I have actually grown to enjoy a daily shower after working out with the boys in training. It relaxes me and I like the gentle scent of flowers from the shampoo I use. Besides, Don’s explained what kind of germs linger on my hands if I only wash them with my own tongue.

“Do you remember how to make the sourdough?” Leo asks curiously, dumping flour onto the table and mixing in other ingredients deftly.

“I think so.” I grin when he motions for me to get started; I haven’t been able to complete a recipe from memory yet, due in part to the variety of food we make and eat, so I’m eager to see if I can get this one right.

First, I bring over the small glass tub of sourdough starter – we keep that on hand. I measure out a cup and a half of it to use and replace it with an equal amount of flour and of warm water, mixing the new in with the old. Then I set it back on the counter to keep doing its yeast thing for the next time we need it.

Next, I scoop the starter onto two cups of bread flour and a large pinch of salt in the electric mixer (not Mikey’s special orange KitchenAid but a second one that Leo and I are allowed to use). I turn it on with the dough hook attached and it kneads everything together. Once it forms, I pull it out onto the table and go to work with my hands, sprinkling in a little oil to keep it from sticking to everything in sight (including my fur). Then I cover it in plastic and let it rise.

Leo nods to let me know I’ve done all the measurements right and I grin in happiness. I turn on the bread oven to get it warming up.

“While those rise,” Leo says, leaving his own dough ball studded with raisins and swirls of cinnamon next to mine, “I’ll show you how to make challah.” I stand by his elbow and watch.

“First, yeast, as always; but now we’ll add a bit of sugar.” Yeast is vital to good bread. We keep a tub of it on hand since we use so much. He mixes the two and splashes in some warm water from the bucket we keep next to the table so we don’t have to go back and forth to the sink. “Whisk in half a cup of oil.” He steps back and nods to me; I step up and do as he asks. While I beat the mix, he cracks in four eggs. Despite his thick fingers, he never gets shell in the mix, like I used to – but I haven’t done that in the last week so I’m definitely getting better!

“Now comes eight cups of flour.”

“Should we use that?” I ask, nodding to the electric mixer.

Leo grins at me. “This’ll train up your muscles.” He dumps in a cup of flour and I beat it into the mixture.

I groan good-naturedly. “You and training,” I tease gently.

“I _could_ tell Raph that you want to work out in the dojo with him,” Leo replies mildly, but I can hear the laughter in his tone.

I yelp as thought truly scared and he adds a second cup of flour. I switch arms. “Sadist,” I grunt as he adds the third cup.

“You can do it,” he says encouragingly. I switch arms again, both aching.

This isn’t easy; the dough is thick and heavy. After the fourth cup, my arms feel dead tired and I pass the bowl to Leo with a scowl. Then I add the flour and he quickly beats it into submission; once the eighth cup is added, he dumps it onto the table, which is already lightly floured.

“We need music,” Leo decides, leaving me to begin kneading the air from the dough. My hair sometimes sticks to the dough, but no one complains. I _have_ considered shaving my arms up to the elbows, but I think that would feel and look strange.

Leo heads to the counter and turns on his small blue music player, scrolling through his music until he finds something he likes. Then he turns the volume up until we can easily speak over it if necessary.

The song is one I’ve heard before because it’s one of Leo’s current favorites. His taste in music is not very genre-specific; he prefers songs that tell a story and that he thinks speak to some part of him. By comparison, Don is hooked on anything celtic or folksy, Mike loves his rock’n’roll and hip hop, and Raph’s iPod is full of heavy metal and rap and hip hop.

 _I’m gonna need you to raise your glass_  
I don’t care what you put in it.  
Here’s to nights that you can’t take back.  
We live hard but we love to laugh.

As I knead and Leo starts on the next dough, I join in with the chorus. “ _See, we won’t forget where we came from. The city won’t change us, we beat to the same drum.”_ Leo playfully beats a rapid drum-roll on the table top and I grin wolfishly at him. “ _No, we won’t forget where we came from. The city can’t change us, we beat to the same drum, the same drum. La-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah, la-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-oh!_ ” Leo chuckles as I sing with abandon. “ _It don’t matter where we go, we always find our way back home!_ ” It repeats.

 _“So here’s to the cheap sunglasses, Redbull and minivans and people who had your back when the world didn’t understand,_ ” Leo adds in his pleasing treble. (Raph’s a bass, not that he admits to singing in the shower).

I grin and belt out the chorus again. Part of the reason why I love to cook is because I can sing along to music without being conscious of how I sound since I’m too busy kneading or measuring ingredients or watching over something on the stove to really care.

Out of respect for Master Splinter and Lysander, however, we don’t go up to full volume.

“ _When ties loosen, we’re losin’ touch and fa-a-adin’ away. We’ll still be raisin’ our cups to the same da-a-amn things. Oh, no, the city won’t change us. Oh, no, the city won’t change us. Oh, no, the city won’t change us, won’t change us,”_ I sing along, wiggling to the beat with my ears flopping a little.

Leo joins me for the last chorus. _“See, we won’t forget where we came from. The city won’t change us, we beat to the same drum. No, we won’t forget where we came from. The city can’t change us, we beat to the same drum, the same drum. La-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah, la-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-oh! It don’t matter where we go, we always find our way back home! La-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah, la-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-oh! It don’t matter where we go, we always find our way back home!_ ”

I giggle as Leo dramatically raises one hand in toast as the song ends. “You’ve got a great voice,” he tells me for the ninth time or something this week. The next song starts and I laugh when Leo groans good-naturedly. It’s a duet, so of _course_ we’re going to sing it in turn. We always do. At least it’s a little slower, since the first song was quite involved and fast-paced.

Leo starts off. _“When I get where I’m goin’, on the far side of the sky, the first thing that I’m gonna do is spread my wings and fly. I’m gonna land beside a lion and run my fingers through his mane. Or I might find out what it’s like to ride a drop of rain.”_

I join in for the chorus. _“Yeah, when I get where I'm goin’, there'll be only happy te-ears. I will shed the sins and struggles I have carried all these years. And I'll leave my heart wide open. I will love and have no fe-e-ear. Yeah, when I get where I'm goin’, don't cry for me down here.”_

Leo sings the next alone. _“I'm gonna walk with my grand-daddy, and he'll match me step for step. And I'll tell him how I’ve missed him every minute since he left. Then I'll hug his neck…”_

We sing the chorus together again. _“Yeah, when I get where I'm goin’, there'll be only happy te-ears. I will shed the sins and struggles I have carried all these years. And I'll leave my heart wide open. I will love and have no fe-e-ear. Yeah, when I get where I'm goin’, don't cry for me down here.”_

The song – and Leo – changes key. _“So much pain and so much darkness in this world we stumble through. All these questions I can't answer… So much work to do-o-o… But when I get where I'm going and I see my maker's face, I'll stand forever in the light…”_

I join in right on time. _“…of his amazing gra-a-a-ace. Yeah, when I get where I'm goin’…”_ This last involves a complicated movement of tone and timbre.

The female – and I – sing in the background together. “ _Oh, when I get where I’m goin’…”_

Leo softly adds his voice. _“There'll be only happy tears.”_

 _“Hallelujah-ah-ah…”_ I sigh out quietly, setting the challah next to other dough balls to rise.

 _“I will love and have no fear.”_ Then Leo vocalizes with a dramatic flourish as I sing, _“When I get where I'm goin’…”_

I grin at Leo as the song ends and he laughs. “You’re much better at this than Mike. He’s never happy about taking the female parts.”

“Poor Mikey,” I chuckle. Leo plops his dough ball down and now there are four resting side-by-side on the table.

“I heard that!” Mike protests from the living room.

“You have the higher voice,” Leo replies calmly. “It makes sense for you to sing the female parts. Besides, I don’t make you do it a lot.”

“Yeah, well, you two keep making your ‘bread’ and leave me out of it,” he grumbles, marking air quotes around the word. I lift and eyebrow and my tail swishes in confusion; there’s a hint of jealousy in his voice. Even Oberon picks up on it and tilts his head at the turtle, though he’s more interested in the continuation of his tummy rubs.

Apparently Leo hears it, too, because he frowns. “You’re more than welcome to help,” he offers. “We’re still going to need wheat berry, potato, and pull-apart bread.”

“Geez, Fearless, why so much?” Raph calls from the second living room. “And when’s lunch anyway?”

“I feel like baking,” Leo answers with a shrug. “And you’re perfectly capable of making a snack to hold you until lunch.”

“Uh huh.” Raph doesn’t sound convinced; he probably knows that the instant he steps into the kitchen Leo will ask him for a favor and he won’t escape for a while.

“Wheat berry or potato?” Leo asks me, holding out two different packets of pre-made starter for both breads.

I flick an ear in thought. “I’ll start the wheat berry and then work on the potato while that gets working,” I offer, taking both packets. Leo grins and begins on the pull-apart bread as I put the wheat berries in a water-filled pan on the stove and turn it on high to boil.

“The entire lair is going to smell like heaven,” I sigh happily as I consider the potato bread dough recipe. First, I have to peel and dice a potato. Mikey’s taught me a lot about how to handle all of the knives and tools in the kitchen. I get that cooking next to the wheat berries and pop the thermometer into the pot. Then I prepare the dry ingredients, checking with Leo about the exact quantities needed since sometimes his handwriting is not the neatest, for both recipes and set them on separate sides of the stove to keep from mixing them up – which I’ve done once, to my eternal shame.

“Mmmhm.” Leo takes the remnants of last week’s breads – sourdough, white, and wheat berry – and quickly cuts them partly open. “Toss the mots?” he asks without looking up from the task. I open the first fridge and dig out the shredded mozzarella, butter, and fresh parsley. Once the breads are cut in crossing patterns, he preheats the oven and I peel and mince two cloves of garlic. He preps the bread, smearing in butter and pinches of cheese between each piece of partially cut bread, and wraps it in foil to set aside while the oven warms.

“I’m thinking garden veggie soup to go with that,” Leo comments as he puts aside the loaf. “And stir-fried chicken for protein.” He’s big on protein – the boys, and now us, need it to build muscle.

“And some chopped watermelon?” I add, nodding at the watermelon sitting in the fridge.

“Good idea.” I pull out the watermelon and set it on the counter, far from the stove. We have a lot of counter space in the new kitchen and it’s amazing. “Carrot, onion, garlic, cabbage, green beans, tomatoes, zucchini…” Leo lists off the vegetables as he pulls them from the second fridge.

I take out some thawed chicken thighs from the second fridge and toss him the basil and oregano from the spice cupboard while I fetch ginger, red pepper flakes, sesame oil, and salt. I put oil in a couple of large skillets and start those on medium-high heat. After washing my hands (yet again), I season the thighs and let them sit in a soy sauce and brown sugar marinade.

The wheat berries are boiling so I set a timer for one hour and check the potato. It is soft and cooked through; I mash it with half of its cooking liquid and add yeast to the other half once it’s cooled slightly. Then I add in the dry ingredients to the yeasty water and beat it with the electric mixture for three minutes. Meanwhile, I set the first of the thighs in the hot oil on the stove, flinching back from any hot spatter.

I glance over and notice that Leo has the chicken stock heating and is chopping veggies quickly and efficiently. I admire his handiwork – I hope I’m that comfortable with knives someday. His cuts are quick and neat, and his cubes are perfectly shaped and sized.

Going back to the table as the first chicken pieces begin frying, I knead flour into the dough until it becomes fairly stiff and then continue kneading between turning or removing and adding chicken to the skillets. The cooked pieces sit in a toaster oven on the counter to keep them warm; I wrap them in foil to keep the juices in. By the time the dough is resting, all of the chicken is cooked and I wash my hands once more.

Leo is just adding the zucchini so I take out the watermelon and slice it into thick chunks, including some smaller pieces that Lysander can handle in his beak more easily than hand-friendly triangles.

Suddenly the high-pitched intro to my favorite song starts and I look at Leo expectantly. He sighs but grins in agreement. _“When you see a deer, you see Bambi and I see antlers up on the wall,”_ we sing along. _“When you see a lake, you think picnic and I see a large mouth up under that log. You're probably thinkin’ that you're gonna change me. In some ways, well, maybe you might. Scrub me down, dress me up, aw, but no matter what – remember, I'm still a guy,”_ we sing together. Maybe I’m not a guy, but I really like this song anyway.

 _“When you see a priceless French painting, I see some drunk, naked girls.”_ Leo makes a face as he sings this line; he always does. _“You think that ridin’ a wild bull sounds crazy and I'd like to give it a whirl.”_ I laugh. _“Well, love makes a man do some things he ain't proud of and in a weak moment I mi-ight: walk your sissy dog, hold your purse at the mall - but remember, I'm still a guy.”_ Leo mimics holding a purse. _“And I'll pour out my heart, hold your hand in the car, write a love song that makes you cry. Then turn right around, knock some jerk to the ground ‘cause he copped a feel as you walked by-y-y…”_ I grin at Leo and wiggle my rear. Leo rolls his eyes.

 _“I can hear you now talkin’ to your friends sayin’, ‘Yeah, girls, he's come a long way from draggin’ his knuckles and carryin’ a club and buildin’ a fire in a cave.’”_ Leo stirs the soup. _“But when you say a backrub means only a backrub then you swat my hand when I try… Well, now, what can I say? At the end of the day, yeah, honey, I'm still a guy.”_ I switch out ‘guy’ for ‘gal’ on a whim and Leo snorts with laughter.

We continue the song as we get the last preparations done. Leo calls out that lunch is ready and Mike, Raph, Hippolyta, Titania, and Oberon help bring everything to the table. I go over and knock on the door to the lab; Aemilia quickly pulls it open and flashes me a smile as she continues talking to Don, drawing him to the food table without missing a beat in their conversation.

After lunch, which is eaten quickly as everyone discusses their plans for the day with interested parties and Leo and I debate what to include on the menu for a celebratory dinner with Mike’s input, Don and Aemilia quickly box up the leftovers before retreating to the lab again. We shoo Raph and Hippolyta out of the kitchen, though it is their turn to do the dishes, to finish making the breads; they can wash the plates and such later.

All of the balls of dough have doubled in size; I grab the one for the wheat berry and quickly knead in the boiled berries. We form loaves in the bread pans, filling the ovens and bread maker. I set several timers and leave them sitting on the appropriate oven to mark which comes out in which order. Then Leo starts the clean-up of the cooking dishes while I put away all the ingredients, wiping down counters and sweeping the floor. We work well together, never bumping into each other or getting in the other’s way unless doing it on purpose. Once all of the bread is baked, we set it on the table to cool and go to let Raph and Hippolyta know they can wash the lunch dishes.

“I’m all baked out,” Leo sighs happily, collapsing gracefully onto the couch next to his brother. “What season are you on?”

“Three,” Raph replies. I sit next to Hippolyta, who grins in welcome before turning back to the Game of Thrones show. I like the show, but I’m not as big a fan as Hippolyta and Raph are. Those two are engrossed in it, comparing notes. They’re even reading the books “together;” Raph gifted a set to Hippolyta a couple weeks ago. He said it was to stop her from trying to steal his, but he seemed pleased with himself when she hugged him in gratitude and immediately began reading the first one.


	18. Aemilia the Mechanic

**Aemilia’s POV**

After training, I take a quick shower and dry off thoroughly. I brush out my hair where it needs it and fluff my tail up. Then I brush my teeth quickly and pull on a light green T-shirt and jeans. Don’s promised to show me around the garage this afternoon, now that Leo’s approved our request to go there (though he said I had to stick to Donnie like a burr, which I was planning on doing anyway).

But for the rest of this morning, I’m going to join Don in his lab and we’re going to learn some more physics. I love physics. Everything makes sense in physics; the equations don’t (usually) make logical leaps that I can’t follow.

Sometimes Don scowls when I do something he, being a math purist, doesn’t like. I mean, okay, _technically_ a _dx_ on top and bottom of a fraction aren’t necessarily the same as a variable and thus could be canceled out, but it works out the same way in the end, so I skip the formalism and just cross those suckers out.

I feel like I’m a sponge and Don’s pouring water on me. Well, to be more accurate, more like I’m sodium polyacrylate, since I am absorbing much more “water” than a sponge could. Don comments sometimes that I’m learning freakishly fast and he worries that I’m going to forget everything again, like it’s going in one ear and out the other. But it’s not; I am simply too entranced to even think about slowing down.

Don’s risen to the challenge, though; he’s given me the passcode to his lab, which he admitted only Leo and Master Splinter know otherwise. He keeps dangerous chemicals in there, and he trusts me (me!) not to touch them if I don’t know what I’m doing. Since we haven’t done a whole lot of chemical work yet, mostly spending our time teaching me everything Don knows with textbooks and focusing more on engineering when it comes to real-world applications, I don’t go near his chemical cabinet.

I find Don waiting for me in front of the lab and he opens the door, bowing me through elegantly. Grinning, I sit in my favorite chair and carefully clean up the table we’d been using last night before too tired to continue. Another positive to my involvement with Don’s work in his lab is that I refuse to let him tinker without me, and I also refuse to give up on my sleep. As a result, Leo says Don’s looking healthier and happier than ever, not staying up all night without realizing the passing of time. I think Leo appreciates that I make sure Don doesn’t stress himself out. And I’m already being useful around the lair, helping with small repairs that keeps Don free to work on bigger projects.

“First things first,” Don chuckles as I spin in the chair to face him once the work station is clean again. He motions for me to stand and ceremoniously holds out his hand, fingers curled over something inside. “You’re going to leave the lair for real, which means you need a shellcell.” His fingers uncurl and reveal a smaller, sleeker version of the cells the boys use.

“Oh!” I squeak, picking it up carefully. It feels smooth and cool in my hand; I flip it open and recognize the layout of the buttons. Playing with them, I activate first the GPS and then the phone function and, cheekily, call Donnie.

Don’s shellcell rings with a new ringtone – _mine_. It’s one of my favorite songs that we often play while tinkering in the lab together, Blackmore’s “Ghost of a Rose.” It starts at a middle verse instead of at the beginning.

 _Her eyes believed in mysteries_  
She would lay amongst the leaves of amber  
Her spirit wild, heart of a child, yet gentle still and quiet and mild and he loved her…

I grin as Donnie blushes a little and pops out his own shell cell, thicker and larger to fit his bigger fingers. He presses the green answer button and holds the phone to the side of his head where his ear hole is. I hold the phone to the side of my head, far enough from my ear that it won’t hurt my ear drum and close enough to my mouth for the microphone to pick up my voice.

“Well, hi,” I chirp into my phone. We’re standing right next to each other, but a good scientist always checks her equipment before embarking on a field test.

Don chuckles and shakes his head, but replies. “Hi, Aemilia.”

“Promise me something?” I ask.

“Hmmm?”

“ _When you see a white rose, you’ll think of me_ ,” I sing in the tune of my ringtone on his phone.

“Of course, Ghost of a Rose,” he teases back. Don grins and we both hang up the silly call.

“It’s beautiful,” I tell Don honestly, admiring the sleek phone. I put it in the pocket of my jeans. “I’ll have to pick ringtones for everyone.”

“Just _please_ don’t self-destruct it. I don’t have a backup yet.”

I giggle at Don’s exasperated sigh. Leo in particular manages to go through shell cells like they’re candy. “Don’t worry, I can fix it myself,” I boast.

“I know you can,” Don replies, smiling. “And you’re going to make your sisters’ phones.”

My tail waves at the challenge and I skip in place, ecstatic. Don gestures for me to sit down again. “Before we get that started, though, we should do a couple hours of physics.”

“Yes!” I agree eagerly, rolling my chair towards the computers. Don sits down in his favorite chair and rolls up next to me.

**Don’s POV**

“Alright, what do you want to go over today?” I ask Aemilia, looking at the bookshelf she’s been working her way through.

“Simple harmonic motion,” Aemilia mutters unhappily, dropping her head onto the back of her chair. “I just _don’t_ get it.”

“You’ve ‘gotten’ everything so far. What’s hanging you up?”

“I always forget to apply the F-net equals negative _k-x_ and forget to equal that to _m_ _dx/dt_ squared,” she grumps.

“Fair enough,” I agree, grinning. “You know, you’re already most of the way through a typical physics one course in just four weeks.”

She shoots me an unhappy look. “I want to get to quantum! Wave-particle duality and spin states and-”

“What good is quantum without a fundamental understanding of classical mechanics, kinematics, and macroscopic physics?” I tease good-naturedly.

“I bet _Newton_ never struggled with this crap.”

“Newton struggled a lot, actually,” I reply mildly. “And you’re learning what took me a year to figure out on my own.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have such a wonderful teacher.” She grins and I shake my head in amusement.

“Let’s look at harmonic motion, then.” I draw a simple mass hanging from a spring, which is a zig-zag line on the paper. “So, in phase space, the motion draws a circle.” I pull an infographic up on the web and point to it.

“Right. Mass goes down, it speeds up, position goes from 0 to max. Then mass slows to a stop at the bottom, position is max, and it comes back up with negative velocity relative to our choice of coordinates. And so on, assuming no friction or other non-conservative forces.” Aemilia traces the circle on the phase space graph as she speaks.

“Yep, no friction – we don’t deal with friction until Classical Mechanics II.”

“Stupid friction.”

“You’ll get to work with drag, too, and we’ll do some rocket science.”

“Sweet. Can I launch a rocket at North Korea?” Aemilia grins evilly.

“Uh, no…”

“Aw.”

“But you can _pretend_ to in a simulation and see how well you account for drag, Coriolis effects, and other variables.” I’ll have to build such a simulation first, of course, but that sounds like a fun challenge.

“Cool. What do I win if I blow it up?”

“Uh… The knowledge that, if you needed to, you could plot the course of a powerful nuclear weapon?”

“How about a desk of my own?”

“Deal.” I had been planning on clearing a table for her anyway, but there just never seems to be enough time in our busy days. “ _And_ I’ll throw in a computer. If you build it.”

“Can’t wait. Let’s get these harmonics down so I can start blowing things up.”

“ _Pretend_ to blow things up.”

Aemilia flaps a hand impatiently, drawing the basic harmonic equation out. “Alright, so the second time derivative of _x_ is equivalent to negative _k_ over _m_ times _x_.”

“And what equation do we know keeps its original function unchanged except for multiplying by a coefficient over any number of derivatives?” I prompt gently.

“Oh, _e_ to the _x_. And the coefficient is the derivative of the power, so… The second derivative of the power is negative _k_ over _m_ , which means the power has to be imaginary and a square root of _k_ over _m_.” She writes this down.

I pull out the equation sheet we’ve been building together. “And if _e_ is raised to an imaginary power, you can break it down into cosines and sines.” I tap the appropriate equation and she nods. “And remember, the _second_ derivative is the same equation, so it could be either _cos_ or _sine_ or a combination of them. The negative sign is a hint, though.”

Aemilia nods. “But assuming it’s _e_ to something is more thorough, right?”

“Not always. But go ahead and see where this takes you.”

“So then _x_ of _t_ is some initial coefficient we’ll call _A_ times _cos_ of square root _k_ over _m_ plus some coefficient _B_ over square root _k_ over _m_ times sine of of square root _k_ over _m_.”

“Ugly,” I comment dryly. Aemilia sticks out her tongue.

“It works, though.”

“And what’s the angular frequency?” Aemilia scowls at the question.

“We denote that with _omega_.” She draws a curly ‘w’ shape. “It’s defined as two pi over big- _T_ , which is the period. For simple harmonic motion, it’s the square root of _k_ over _m_ , so this can simplify a bit.”

“And what is _A_ and _B_? At time zero, that equation should equal…?”

“Assuming we start with an unstretched string, it _should_ be zero.”

“And sine of zero is zero, but _cos_ of zero is one, so how do we set the first term to zero?”

“ _A_ has to be zero, then.”

“But if _A_ is zero, why is there a cosine at all?”

“Then _A_ is _x-_ naught?”

“Right. And we can _say_ _x-_ naught is zero, or one, or whatever we like.”

“ _B_ is a little trickier, as I recall… So at time _t_ , the movement should be like this.” She slowly lowers and raises her hand as though it is bouncing on a string. “And _cos_ goes from zero to one… So there has to be something with the sine to counteract that.”

“Mhm.”

“Oh, it’s the initial velocity! I remember!” I chuckle at the happiness in Aemilia’s voice. “So then the position is _x-_ naught _cos_ _omega-t_ plus _v-_ naught over _omega_ sine _omega-t_.”

“And then if we start at the farthest point, at amplitude, and the starting velocity is zero, what do we get?”

“The sine function goes away.” She crosses that part out. “And _x-_ naught becomes _A_ against for amplitude.”

“Close. It’s not quite that pretty, though. It’s _A_ _cos_ _omega-t_ plus _phi_.” I write down the appropriate equation.

“Blech.” Aemilia makes a face at the equation and crosses her own out.

We continue on in this thread for a while and talk our way through a couple of simple harmonic motion problems I find online to test each other with. Aemilia works everything out by hand, having decided to leave programming for her final copy of each day’s ‘homework.’ She enjoys turning in several sheets of work for me to ‘grade’ every morning, which I do while she reads further ahead in the textbook. Then we discuss the answers and I try to clarify anything mysterious or difficult. I’m relearning everything over again, too, and I find that I truly enjoy teaching just as much as I enjoy learning.

“Hey, guys, it’s lunch,” Leo says, knocking on the door and breaking us out of our shared trance. I glance at the clock, startled. It’s already one.

“Thanks, Leo!” Aemilia calls through the door. She stands up and stretches, shaking out her fur. I get up and follow her out of the lab.

“I think I get harmonics a little more now,” Aemilia tells me as we fill our plates and sit at our usual spots at the table. “Not saying I’ll remember the exact forms of all these…” She grins sheepishly.

“That’s what a textbook is for,” I reply, waving a hand. “Knowing an equation isn’t nearly as important as being able to find it again. I don’t memorize much anymore. It’s all in my books, so I just have to remember what everything is called. I’m terrible with constants that I’m not using at least a few times a day.”

“So if I asked what the charge of an electron is…?”

“Negative one electron charge,” I reply with a grin. Aemilia rolls her eyes.

“In Coloumbs, silly.”

“Uh…” I take a bite to give myself time to think. “It’s definitely negative.”

“You think?” she teases.  It’s my turn to roll my eyes at her.

“I wanna say negative one point something… One point six? Times ten to the the negative thirteen or something like that.”

“Don’t ask me,” Aemilia laughs. “I just glanced through that part. Measuring in electron-volts when dealing with atoms seems much smarter.”

“But when you’re dealing with house currents, and the current running through the lair, it’d be up into the mega-electron-volts or whatever,” I point out. “And everything uses volts, so the conversions would take up my time.”

“You know what we should build?” Aemilia asks suddenly. I blink at the sudden change in topic, but I’m getting used to it and simply make an encouraging sound as I take another bite of whatever we’re eating. What _are_ we eating? I glance at my plate; it’s chicken stir fry with veggies. “One of those hand buzzers that you shake someone’s hand and it zaps them.”

I chuckle. “You sound like Mikey,” I tell her fondly. “He’s the prankster of the family.”

“Mikey!” Aemilia immediately calls across the table, getting my youngest brother’s attention easily. “Ever shocked someone with a handshake?”

“Uh, not on purpose?” he offers with a confused grin.

“Cool! We’ll talk later!” Aemilia beams at me and I shake my head fondly.

“You should put your mind to more important things that helping Mikey prank someone. Especially since he’ll probably pull it on Raph and then Raph will pummel him and Mikey will whine and rat you out, and then Raph will come pound on _you_ instead.” I sigh with long-tested patience for my younger and immediate older brothers.

“It’ll be funny!” Aemilia insists. “Besides, Raph wouldn’t hurt me. Right, Raph?” She beams at Raph, who looks up in confusion.

“Huh?” he asks eloquently.

“You wouldn’t beat on me for no reason?”

Raph’s eyes narrow. “I would if ya needed it.”

Aemilia pouts. “Hippolyta, _you’re_ on my side, right?” she asks hopefully.

“If you give Mikey a shocking thing, then no,” the black-furred mutant replies calmly, nibbling at a piece of chicken. Raph raises an eyeridge.

“Don’t ya _dare_ arm Mikey with _anything_ ,” he growls at Aemilia.

“Moi?” Aemilia bats her eyes at the hothead.

“Donny!” Raph snarls, glaring at me like it’s _my_ fault Aemilia has a sense of humor to match Mikey’s.

“Leave me out of it, I’m not involved in this one!” I demand.

“Yer teachin’ her this crap!”

“It’s not crap,” I mutter, frowning.

“Lay off him,” Aemilia orders at the same time. “Or I’ll… I’ll… Donny, can I borrow the atom smasher?”

“No,” I tell her firmly.

“How about the hydrochloric-”

“No.”

“Um… Oh! How about the dicholorophenolindophenol?”

“No, you’re not turning Raph pink,” I reply mildly.

“What?!” Raph barks.

“What about methylene blue?” Aemilia pleads, smirking where Raph can’t see it since she’s turned to me. I quickly shake my head.

“Access to my lab is a _privilege_ , one that I will revoke if you dye _anything_ in any color,” I warn seriously.

Aemilia pouts. “He’d look so cute in pink, though.” She grins at the outraged sputtering coming from Raph.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” I tell Aemilia, eating another piece of chicken.

“You can handle it,” Aemilia chuckles. “But I promise to be good. For now, at least. I really want to see the garage.” She grins and leans close so Mikey can’t overhear what she says next. “And if I _do_ do something, I’ll make sure Mike takes the fall.”

I shake my head. “Raph’s not an idiot,” I mutter in reply.

“Who said anything about _Raph_?” Aemilia bats her eyelashes innocently and I can just shake my head a bit. She’ll learn.

After lunch, it’s time to take Aemilia to the garage. I let Leo know that we’re going out and lead Aemilia through the sewers. She politely declines to comment on the smell outside our home.

I show her how to get into the garage, though I’m not sure she knows how to get to this point; as usual when leaving the lair, I lead us on a circuitous route. She inputs the code and the door opens; I flick on the lights.

“Oh, wow,” Aemilia breathes. I grin with pardonable pride; seen through a stranger’s eyes, my life’s work in this garage is pretty fascinating, I admit. “Cool…” She begins with the biggest truck, the centerpiece. It’s currently up on a lift while I work on the engine, which is sitting underneath it on the floor.

Aemilia explores with her eyes more than her hands, for which I am grateful. Mike is already a hurricane to my projects; I don’t need an _educated_ hurricane in here, too. Aemilia looks over my tool sets and at the scattered projects, bits and pieces of everything, on the tables.

“Where do we start?” she asks after she’s made a quick lap of the garage, beaming happily.

“I’d like to the truck back into service,” I reply, heading for the truck. “I think one of the pistons has a worn ring – there’s some emissions I don’t like showing up.” I sit in my specialized chair and press the appropriate button for the chair to shift from sitting-up position to a lying-down position. Kicking gently off the wall, I slide under the truck next to the engine.

“I didn’t get all the way into the pistons,” I explain as Aemilia sits down next to me. “This is the cylinder head,” I start, knocking on the engine’s top. “We have to start on the outside bolts and work our way in, in order. Then we clean the top of each cylinder once the head is off, so nothing falls into the engine.”

“Okay,” Aemilia agrees. I hand her the adjustable wrench and point out the first bolt; she goes to with a will. We quickly get the cylinder head off and I set it on my lap, seeing as this should be a quick fix.

“Now, clean the heads with the compressed air to get rid of the dirt, then use this to get rid of the grease.” Aemilia sprays off the dirt and grime with compressed air, then sprays on the degreaser and we let it sit to work its magic while I show her the replacement rings and she quickly reads through the manufacturer’s instructions on how to put them on.

While she reads, I wipe off the grease and double-check that everything is clean. Then I take out the pistons and clamp the first on in a vice, to the connecting rod instead of the piston head itself. The ring on this one looks okay, but not great; I’ll replace them all and see if that fixes the emissions issue.

“So we start with the oil separator ring,” Aemilia says, walking over to stand next to me.

“Right,” I agree, motioning for her to go ahead and install the ring. She carefully slips it into position and grins when it sits right in. I check for any issues and find none.

“Next, the oil wiper rings,” I suggest, handing them over. She does so slowly, taking her time to get it right. I check the ring gap location and carefully straighten one that managed to turn, which they always do.

Since the next part is delicate, I take the installation tool and carefully pry open the first ring, slipping it over the piston head. “You can’t bend or wiggle the ring into position,” I explain as the ring slides into place slowly.

“What happens if it bends?”

“You start with a new one,” I chuckle, setting the ring into its position. “But it won’t work right if it’s crooked; oil will leak in or out, air can escape, and so on. Which I think is the original problem anyway.”

I complete the job by showing Aemilia how to oil the new rings over a drop sheet for the excess to drip onto. We go through all six pistons and Aemilia puts the rings on the final one carefully and precisely, beaming when I praise her work. After checking the piston holes for wear and tear, we reassemble the engine and use the cherry picker to lift it back into place.

“We have just enough time to change the oil and get back to the lair before dinner,” I estimate, glancing at the large clock on the wall. Leo gave it to me after one too many late nights in the garage that resulted in him either calling or, if I was ignoring my shell cell, coming to fetch me home for dinner and sleep.

“This is the oil filter.” I point to the small cylinder. “And this is the drain plug. First, we put the pan into place.” Aemilia slides the oil pan under the drain plug. “Now, on top of the truck is an oil filler cap – go remove it.” She disappears to do so and then comes back, having left the cap on a table where it will stay clean and out of the way.

“And now we put on gloves because things get messy,” I chuckle, offering her a pair of well-stained human (five-fingered) gloves and pulling on my own, specially made pair. Once she’s gloved up, I offer her the wrench kit. “That should remove fairly easily. Be careful and try not to get any in your fur; it’ll take lots of work to get it back out.”

Aemilia nods seriously and sizes up the wrenches, finding the appropriate one – 17mm – and slowly unscrews the drain plug. The set of new equipment is sitting in my lap and I check that we have everything we need for a second time.

The oil spits out and catches Aemilia by surprise, who drops the drain filter plug into the pan and scoots back from the thin stream. Chuckling, I fish out the plug and set it on a blue shop towel to clean.

“And _that_ is why we wear gloves,” I can’t help but point out. Aemilia grins sheepishly and picks up the plug in the towel. “This washer is permanent, but some cars have temporary washers – so you’d need a new one. But just clean this one off and we’ll put it back when the oil’s out.” The shop starts to smell greasy as the oil drains out of the truck.

“Yum,” Aemilia chuckles, wafting her hand under her nose.

“Smell of success in the morning,” I joke.

“It’s afternoon.”

“Smell of success in the afternoon, then.”

Aemilia shakes her head and crawls out from under the truck to clean the oil drain plug. I shift the pan closer when the oil flow slows enough to risk splashing the edge of the small pan.

“Now what?” Aemilia asks, appearing next to me again with the clean drain plug.

“Now tighten that back in – not too tight or you could strip it.” She does so easily, gentle on the plug. I tighten it a quarter-turn past where she stopped and nod my satisfaction.

“And now we get to change the filter.” I grin. “This one makes a mess. First, use this to loosen it until you can turn it by hand.” I hand her the filter wrench and move the pan under the filter. She sets the wrench in and carefully, suspiciously, begins to loosen the filter. She grips it in her left hand once it starts to turn more easily and slowly, an eighth-turn at a time, continues to loosen it.

“Oh!” she gasps when the filter releases and oil spills over her glove, into the pan. I snatch the filter up as she involuntarily drops it. Aemilia scowls at the oil and quickly wipes her gloves on a clean shop towel, which I offer with an apologetic smile. I hold the filter to drain over the pan.

“You can wipe away the oil on there,” I suggest, nodding to where the filter attaches. Aemilia nods and uses a clean rag, which I give her with my free hand, to wipe away the oil. She finishes just as the last of the oil is dripping from the old filter.

I put the old filter in an empty pan, just to keep it from draining onto the floor, and pick up the new filter. “I’ve already prepped this with a coating of new oil on the o-ring,” I explain to Aemilia, tilting the filter so she can see the shine of oil around its top. “Screw this in by hand until the o-ring contacts the sealing surface.”

Aemilia uses her cleaner gloved hand to screw in the filter and stops when it makes contact. “Okay, now a three-quarters. It can’t be too tight or too loose. Sometimes I mark it for reference, but it’s not necessary.”

Aemilia twists the filter one half-turn and then one quarter-turn. I check to ensure the filter is properly installed and nod; Aemilia beams.

“And now we add five quarts of oil,” I say, rolling out from under the truck. Once Aemilia is clear and we’ve pulled out all of our tools, I lower the truck on the lift so it’s easier to fill the oil reservoir. “Small jugs are easier to pour and don’t splash as much,” I remark as I uncap the first quart of oil. I pop a funnel into the oil filler and hand the jug to Aemilia. She has to brace her stomach on the side of the truck, feet off the ground, to reach the reservoir, but she does it without complaint and pours in the first quart carefully. She trades me the empty jug for a full one and adds that in; we repeat this for all five quarts and then Aemilia screws the cap onto the reservoir.

“Now, this engine _actually_ needs more like six quarts of oil, but we leave out a quart for now until the oil gets into all the engine parts. Hop in.” I open the driver door in invitation and Aemilia immediately jumps into the seat. It’s a little awkward for her since I built it to accommodate our shells, but she scoots it forward to reach the pedals after a moment of confusion.

“Run the engine for about half a minute; that’ll circulate the oil,” I tell her, holding out the keys. Aemilia eagerly puts them in the hole and turns the truck on, grinning wildly as it roars obediently to life. After thirty seconds, in which she tests the lights and window wipers, she shuts it off again.

I lean over to check for leaks under the car; seeing none, I motion for Aemilia to hop out again. She does so with a small pout. I pour in a last quart of oil and check the oil level, showing her how to do so and letting her re-check it after me.

“Once I have a good bucket of oil saved up, I take it to the hazardous waste site,” I tell Aemilia, pouring the used oil into the five-gallon bucket sitting by a bench. It’s got “OIL” written on it in thick Sharpie. “And the filters go with it.” I toss the filter into another bucket that holds such items that need special disposal. “And we’re done. Just in time, too; we’ll have to hurry or be late for dinner.”

“Thanks, Donnie,” Aemilia says as I usher her out of the garage and lock the place up behind us, activating its advanced security system again. “This was incredible.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply warmly, grinning. “It’ll be even more fun when we start building your truck.”

“Can we make it blue?” she asks wistfully.

“You can paint it anything you like. Even pink.” That makes Aemilia giggle happily.

“I don’t think Hippolyta would like that,” she admits. “She’d probably want flames and things like that.”

“Raph wanted that on his bike. I told him _he_ could paint such things; I’m no artist.”

“Did he?” she asks curiously. Raph’s bike is under a tarp in the garage, which means she hadn’t seen it.

“He got Leo to do it, on the condition that he do Leo’s chores for a week,” I reply. We had been thirteen at the time; it feels like forever ago. “I gave the bike to Raph for his thirteenth birthday. He loves that thing. We work on it together, sometimes. Raph’s really good with mechanics. He could probably keep everything in that garage running.”

“Why doesn’t he?” Aemilia asks curiously. “That’d free up your time to work on things only you can do?”

“I’m kind of a perfectionist,” I admit guiltily. “I won’t let him take things over – not that he’s offered. I think he knows I’d thank him for his help and then do everything myself anyway.”

“Hmmm…” Aemilia glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “You trusted me to do the oil change today.”

“Because I was right there,” I reply, scrupulously honest and somewhat sheepish. “And you actually _listen_ to me. Raph just kind of does his own thing. It tends to work most of the time.” I don’t mention when it _doesn’t_ work, which is when we suffer things like when the engine caught fire after Raph forgot to check a gasket I’d mentioned could be the issue with the engine’s already poor performance. That had been a fun one to explain to Leo and Master Splinter… _Sorry guys, car caught fire and we may or may not have triggered a major evacuation of the nearby residential blocks._

Aemilia nods. “Well, he does seem like the type who does things his way and only asks if he did it right after something goes wrong.” I grin at this description; it’s pretty much spot on.

The rest of the walk back to the lair is spent with Aemilia asking questions about what kind of projects I have in progress in the garage. I admit that I’ve thought about building a helicopter and she is all for that, even going so far as to ponder building an extension onto the garage as a hangar.

When we sit down for dinner, Aemilia gets Raph to talk about his bike and the hothead actually talks all through dinner with her about it; she drags me into the conversation when she suggests adding rocket boosters to the crotch rocket. No way, I say; hells yes, says Raph.


End file.
